


The Babysitter

by WickedlyAwesomeMe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adorable Rose, Basically exploding cuteness of Rose Weasley, Draco and Theo's Potty Mouth, F/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Hogwarts, Slightly Angsty Draco, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 140,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedlyAwesomeMe/pseuds/WickedlyAwesomeMe
Summary: It was a dark and stormy Sunday night when Hermione Granger unexpectedly visited his house and entrusted him with her daughter, Rose. Disaster ensues.Slow burn Dramione with a sprinkle of cute, cute Rose!





	1. The Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello, welcome to my Dramione fanfic. So, as I've previously stated, this will be a slow burn Dramione. I will basically focus more on building the relationship between Draco and Rose before Draco and Hermione becomes all googly eyes for each other. Please drop a review or hit that kudos button!

The storm raged on, and Draco Malfoy felt uneasy.

As his eyes were permanently glued to one of the vast windows in his flat, watching the trashing trees and the pattering rain, Draco knew he could not sleep yet. Something was amiss. Something was bound to happen.

And so, he waited.

Perched on his plush couch beside the blazing fireplace, he tried to keep himself busy by reading a novel or updating himself with the latest news of the Wizarding World. Such was his distraction from these simple tasks; his eyes kept on drifting towards the windows. Deeply sighing, he finally gave up any activity and merely stared out the window.

Draco briefly looked at his watch, noting that it was close to midnight. _'I should really get ready for bed,'_ he begrudgingly thought with a sigh, easing himself up from the couch. He was to visit his ailing mother in the Malfoy Manor tomorrow. It would do him some good if he had some sleep tonight, knowing tomorrow would only give him a troublesome heart.

As he was readying himself to leave the room, a sudden pop rang in his private study area.

"Master Draco has visitors," the house-elf said, bowing so low his nose almost touching the carpeted floor.

"Visitors?" he echoed, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. He tried to recall if Theo meant to see him today, and then proceeded to think his best friend wouldn't even bother coming through the door. "Have you asked for their names, Tippy?"

The house-elf looked at him in horror, eyes suddenly widening like saucers. "Forgive Tippy, Master Draco!" he shrilly exclaimed. “Tippy forgot and failed you, master! Tippy will accept any punishment." He tearfully wrung his ears in shame, reminiscent of his once beloved elf Dobby, prompting Draco to sigh.

“It's all right, Tippy. It's a simple mistake," he reassured. Although once upon a time he was a frightful boy who loved to punish the house-elves, Draco had now grown out of that habit. Especially, after seeing the horrors of the Second Wizarding War, he tried to keep violence at the minimum. Some things never changed, however, since the Malfoy house-elves were still terribly melodramatic.

"What of the visitors, then?” he urged.

"A woman and a child, Master Draco," Tippy said, nervously crumpling the tips of his ears. "The woman claims urgency, master. Tippy has no choice but to call you."

The blond was admittedly curious. "Very well, bring them in."

Tippy disappeared with a pop at once and Draco waited on his armchair. He could hear Tippy's scuttling footsteps, and another pair that was quite familiar to him. As Tippy walked inside the study area and ushered the visitors inside, Draco was brought to his feet in disbelief, clearly not expecting them. Tippy then bowed down and left.

"G-Granger?"

Opposite him stood the bushy-haired Hermione Granger. The storm was unforgiving to her, drenching the poor woman from head to toe despite her heavy coat. In her arms was a child that looked exactly like her - the bushy hair, the nose, the lips - save from her red hair and blue eyes.

"Hello, Malfoy."

He stared, still too dumbstruck, and he did not know what to do. The last time he saw her was on the day of his trial with the Wizengamot. After that, Draco lived almost like a recluse, shutting himself from the Wizarding World with only some contact with Theo, his mother and her healer.

Draco's throat ran dry, remembering the times when he was partnered with Granger during missions for the Order of the Phoenix. Despite the bad blood, McGonagall believed they were quite a pair. Draco was well-equipped with knowledge on the Dark Arts, and, combined with Hermione's magical prowess, they were a force to be reckoned with. He could not remember how many times she saved his life... the times when _he_ saved _her_ life.

It was... it was just too long and Draco did not know what to do.

"Err...may we sit?" she tentatively asked.

Her voice had snapped him off from his reverie as he awkwardly pointed at the couch opposite him. Granger dried both herself and the young girl, before journeying towards the offered couch. The redhead kept her big, sparkling blue eyes glued on him as her mother carried her to their seat.

Granger settled down and placed the child beside her. The little girl surveyed the room with rapt attention, and Draco could not keep his eyes off her. She looked eerily like the brunette sitting beside her. It was no doubt that she was Hermione's. The hair and eyes were trademarks of a Weasley, of course.

 _'Of course,'_ he thought, involuntarily sneering as he thought of Ron Weasley. Hermione got pregnant with the Weasel's child at the height of Voldemort's terror. They were amidst a war, desperate actions were bound to happen, but the two were clearly in love. Draco heard that they got married almost a month after Voldemort's defeat. Not that he cared, really. He never saw a glimpse of their child, however. Grimmauld Place was no place for an infant so he assumed she was sent somewhere away from the epicenter of chaos.

Hermione then cleared her throat, snapping him off yet again. His high cheekbones colored a little, realizing he had been staring too much.

"Mama, look," a soft voice of a child filled the awkwardly silent room as she pointed at a small figurine of a Quidditch player on the table. “Birch! Tornadoes, Mama, look!"

Draco tried to suppress a smirk. Granger was notoriously uninterested in Quidditch. During their missions, they forged an acquaintance somehow to save each others lives when the need arose, and he perfectly remembered that she was clueless of the sport. Clearly, the girl did not inherit her mother's Quidditch disinterest.

"Hush now, Rose," Hermione said with a warning glance, grasping the child's overly excited hands. "What did I tell you before coming here?"

The child, Rose, looked ashamed and slumped back on her seat. "Sorry, Mama, I promised to be good," she whispered.

Her mother warmly smiled. "Good girl."

Draco cleared his throat, drawing Hermione's attention. "Would you like something to drink?" he amiably asked.

Hermione looked conflicted for a while, before curtly nodding in reply. "Tea will be all right," she said. She shot a look at her daughter and then frowned. "I don't mean to impose but may I request for some hot cocoa too? It was terribly cold outside. I don't want Rose to catch a cold."

Upon the mention of 'hot cocoa', Rose perked up. "With marshmallows on the top?" she hopefully asked.

Hermione sheepishly smiled at Draco. "With marshmallows on the top, yes?" she added.

Draco curtly nodded his head. "Tippy!" he called. The house-elf appeared at once.

"Master Draco called for Tippy?"

"Yes," he replied. "Bring some tea for Miss Granger and myself. And some hot cocoa for the girl."

"Don't forget the marshmallows, Mister!" Rose exclaimed.

"Rosie."

"Sorry, Mama," the girl quickly added with a toothy grin. "May I please have some marshmallows? Thank you."

Draco snorted. Trust Granger to raise a child with impeccable manners. The said witch gave him a small glare, which he returned with a smirk.

As his house-elf disappeared to prepare for the drinks, Draco draped an arm around his armchair and expectantly looked at his visitors. "Well?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow.

His curiosity peaked when Granger suddenly became uneasy.

"Look, Malfoy, I know we haven't seen each other for...what? Three years - ?"

"Four," Draco absentmindedly corrected. Hermione looked mildly surprised and the blond colored. "Anyway."

"Yes, anyway," Hermione slowly continued, still looking at him strangely. "I know we're not exactly friends, but we've been through a lot and I trust you. You've saved my life more than I could ever count."

He watched as she absentmindedly drew her daughter closer to her. She suddenly looked older... _wearier_. Perhaps being a single mother had tired her so. Also, being one of the top Aurors in the ministry, Hermione was always called to action. He wondered what had caused her sudden grief and patiently waited for her to continue.

At the same time, Tippy chose to come back with their drinks. Rose exclaimed her glee, jumping down from the couch to grab her hot beverage. "Thank you, Tippy!" she said, gently patting his balding head with a grin. If house-elves could blush, Draco knew that Tippy would be red right now.

"You're most welcome, young miss," he gushed out, preening from the compliment. He then bowed at Draco and disappeared once more.

"Sweetheart, be careful," Hermione reminded as Rose slowly went back to her seat, carefully clutching her drink.

As soon as she was satisfied that her daughter was settled, Hermione returned to Draco, a look of determination on her face. "Malfoy, I need a favor."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Go on," he urged.

"I..." She faltered and nervously looked at her blissfully oblivious daughter. "I... _Oh blast it_." She determinedly looked at Draco. "I need you to look after my daughter."

His eyebrows shot up high on his forehead, clearly in disbelief and waiting for a punchline. But, when none came and Hermione still expectantly looked at him, his eyebrows slowly drew together. "Excuse me?"

Hermione sighed. "Just... just for a while, please," she claimed, beseeching. "I... I beg you." As if pained with what she was about to do, she added, "You owe me."

He sneered. Of course he knew that. If it weren't for her, he and his mother would have been in Azkaban right now. Worst case scenario, they might have been driven insane by now. As his constant partner in their Order missions, it was Hermione who was most adamant that no, he was not Voldemort's follower anymore, that yes he defected and that yes, he worked under the Order of the Phoenix until Voldemort’s demise.

"Please, Malfoy. You're the only one I can think of."

"And where are you going?" he demanded, crossing his arms.

She sighed and heavily leaned against the couch. "We're going to catch Ron's killer," she said, almost in a whisper, as she steadily refused to meet his eyes. "A reliable source told us he is hiding somewhere in China and..." She shifted her pained, dull eyes on him completely. "I have to catch him."

He regarded her statement silently. He could remember how the Wizarding World shook when it was announced that one-third of the Golden Trio died at the hands of a rogue Death Eater. He remembered the picture of a grieving Hermione, now a widow, clutching desperately to Harry Potter. It was a bleak day and although Draco never truly liked Weasley, even when he was partnered with him during missions, he was sombered with the thought that he died.

"Have you identified the killer?"

Hermione shot a look at Rose, who was unaware that they were talking about her dead father.

"Yes," she then replied. "Rodolphus Lestrange."

Unwittingly, he scowled. His demented aunt's husband was equally insane. He was not even surprised he had the gall to kill one-third of the symbol of hope in the Wizarding World.

"Why not give her to Potter?" he then asked, still thinking the idea of him taking care of a child was preposterous.

"He's coming with me," she reasoned. "Ron was his best friend too."

Draco could already feel a growing headache. "Then give her to her father's family, Granger," he countered matter-of-factly.

Hermione colored and looked away from him. "Well... we're not exactly on speaking terms," she confessed.

He frowned, not understanding what she meant. He remembered the boisterous Weasley bunch, and they would undoubtedly take care of Rose and give her all the love she deserved while her mother was away to fight bad guys.

But then, he remembered a certain article, and he cleared his throat. ”Oh, err, right," he awkwardly replied.

It was a scandalous affair. Molly Weasley pointed her finger at Hermione, declaring to the whole Wizarding World through the infamous Rita Skeeter that it was her fault Ron was dead. He also remembered a similar news from Ginny Weasley, blaming Hermione for the death of her brother. Draco was not entirely privy with the whole affair. Ronald Weasley's death was simply because of a Death Eater. Draco wondered if there were other reasons that led to his death.

"I've exhausted all the other alternatives, Malfoy," Hermione then said, rubbing a hand against her face. "Seeing that my parents are still in Australia and..." She trailed off, eyes gazing off into the distance. Draco frowned at the news that her parents were still obliviated somewhere in Australia. But then again, it was a powerful spell and reversing it might result to destroying the mind.

"Things are happening too fast and you... you're the only choice that I have,” she finally whispered, and he stared at her in surprise. It was bewildering to think that she even considered him in the first place! She could have left her to some of their schoolmates or at least to people who would be more suitable to take care of a child. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand why she chose him. 

"I don't know how to care of a child," he protested, glancing at Rose who was now playing with the marshmallows in her drink.

"Don't worry, I've thought this through," she said, retrieving a parchment from one of her pockets. "I've made instructions on how to take care of Rose. She can be... _well_." She fondly looked at her daughter as Draco scowled.

He peered at the parchment, eyes bulging out. "Merlin, Granger, are you writing a essay?"

Her eyes dangerously flashed and for a moment, Draco thought they were once again third years and she was about to punch his stupid, stupid mouth. ”I’m leaving my daughter behind, Malfoy!" she snapped. Draco actually felt a little guilty.

Beside her, Rose looked up at her mother with a frown. "You okay, Mama?" she asked, completely abandoning her marshmallows and hot cocoa to crawl onto her lap. With her sticky fingers, she tried to smooth out the wrinkles on her forehead. “Are you mad, Mama? Are you sad?" She then craned her neck to look at Draco with utmost distrust.

 _'Great, she now thinks of you as an enemy, Draco Malfoy,’_ he mused with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm okay, Rosie. Mama's okay," Hermione said, oblivious of the stickiness of her daughter's fingers, and warmly smiled at her.

The sudden warmth was an odd sight for Draco. He was so used to stubborn, know-it-all Granger sticking her nose everywhere. But then again, he had never done anything to be the receiving end of such looks. _‘Well, there were moments…’_ a traitorous voice whispered in his ear, and he hastily quashed it away. It would be of no use for such ridiculous feelings now.

He watched as Hermione fondly tucked Rose’s stubborn curls behind her ears, softly laughing as said curls refused to stay behind her ears. It wasn’t a surprise motherhood came naturally to her. Hermione had years of practice before by mothering both Potter and Weasley during their Hogwarts years.

"I'll seriously fuck up, Granger," he then warned.

"Language!" she reprimanded, comically covering both of Rose's ears.

Draco sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. "How long will you be gone?"

"At least a week."

He frowned. "And at most?"

"A month, I think."

Draco scowled. Silently, he rose from his seat and started to pace. "This is a huge favor, Granger," he warned. "A huge responsibility."

A mindless snort escaped from her lips. “Yeah, well, aren’t you used to such responsibilities?” she offhandedly offered. "Seeing how you've been given a lot during our Hogwarts years?" She was alluding to the time when he was tasked by Voldemort to bring Death Eaters inside Hogwarts and to also kill the greatest wizard that had ever graced on the Wizarding World, save from Merlin himself. “You’ll manage.”

He grew thunderous and glared venomously at Hermione. ” _How dare you -_ "

He faltered as his eyes landed on Rose's frightened look. He tried to calm himself down, breathing through his nose, and waited for the anger to subside.

"I-I'm sorry," Hermione stammered, cheeks coloring with shame. "I was out of line, Malfoy."

Draco continued to glare at her, before sighing and plopping down on his chair. He was silent for a while and Granger patiently waited.

"I will be terrible at this, Granger."

"I know," she said, but Draco knew she did not mean it as an insult.

"I'm serious."

Hermione sighed. "Shockingly, Malfoy, I really do trust you."

"You're not going to leave until I relented, are you?"

"You know me too well, Malfoy."

"Yes, well, I was forced to watch your back for years, so of course I'm bound to get to know you better."

A soft smile appeared on Hermione's face. "Thank you," she earnestly said, warmth in her eyes.

Draco looked away, a lump growing in his throat. She had looked at him like that at times, especially during his bleakest days back when war was the norm, and he thought that weird, fuzzy, uncomfortable emotion she evoked from him would be gone after four years. Annoyingly, it had reawaken with a _vengeance_ and he desperately pushed it at the deepest recesses of his heart.

"I haven't agreed yet," he grumbled.

"But you will, yes?" she asked, hopeful.

Draco sighed and warily looked at Hermione. "If something happens to your daughter, you know I'm not to be blamed completely, right?" he said with a scowl. "It wasn't my brilliant idea after all."

"I'll take most of the blame," she promised with that annoying, toothy smile of hers.

Draco released a monumental sigh and leaned against his chair. Glancing at the child, whose eyes were already drooping close, he finally gave Hermione a slight, stiff nod.

The smile on her face turned a little forlorn as she looked at her daughter. "Rose, sweetheart," she softly called, shaking her daughter awake. "I've got exciting news for you!"

The young girl's eyes glinted in curiosity as Hermione pulled out a small box from her pockets. With a tap of her wand, the box grew into a normal-sized luggage.

"You're going to have a sleepover," her mother declared, gesturing at the bag.

"Sleepover?" Rose asked, eyes widening in disbelief. "Really, Mama?"

"Yes, really," she said, pulling Rose onto her lap and pointing at the silent blond. "You're going to stay with him for a while since I got to go somewhere, okay. This nice man is Mal - _Draco_ and he'll take care of you while I'm gone."

Rose's blue eyes connected with Draco's grey ones. Then, a small pout appeared on Rose's face.

"He's not nice."

Draco snorted in amusement while Hermione was torn between laughing and reprimanding her daughter. The latter won, however, as she gave Rose a stern stare.

"That wasn't very nice either," she said. Draco rolled his eyes as Hermione shot him and delighted smile. "What must you say?"

Rose released a petulant sigh, pout still in place. "I'm sorry, Draco," she said.

Hermione gave him an expectant look. He cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, “It’s all right.”

"Must you really go, Mama?" Rose asked, tears now welling up her eyes. "I wanna come with you."

"Sweetheart, we've talked about this," Hermione appeased. "Your Uncle Harry and I have to work for a while, okay? I'll buy you gifts and books and toys so you have to be a good girl."

Hermione stood up and placed Rose back on the ground.

"I have to go," she said, this time directing her words to Draco. "The international Portkey will activate in a few minutes."

"Good luck, Granger," he said with a curt nod.

Hermione then knelt down to level her eyes with her daughter. "Mama loves you, Rosie," she said, eyes dewy with emotion.

"I love you more," Rose tearfully said, flinging her arms around Hermione's neck.

Her mother chuckled and placed a kiss on her red, bushy hair. "I love you most," she whispered.

Draco looked away, feeling like an intruder at this intimate moment between mother and child. His parents were not openly affectionate to him when he was younger. To see this new, foreign interaction made him uncomfortable.

"I must go," Hermione said, reluctantly prying the girl's arms and standing up. "Behave, Rose. Don't give Draco a hard time."

Her watery eyes sought his and she smiled. "Thank you, Malfoy," she said.

Rose ran towards the door as Hermione strode out from his study. But then, he heard a distinct pop and knew she had already Disapparated.

Draco watched as Rose stood at the door for a few minutes, her back facing him. And then, slowly, she turned around and wordlessly looked at him.

For a few minutes, they just stared at each other. She looked too much like Hermione, but her blue eyes was the exact same shade of her father’s; it made him a little sick. The reality of the situation then came crashing down to him and he panicked. How was he to take care of a child when he was already busy with the Malfoy business and tending to his ailing mother? This was also _Granger’s_ child, and he was scared of fucking up if he still wanted to see the light of the day.

"Tippy!"

The house-elf appeared immediately and bowed. "Master Draco, what can Tippy do?"

"Show the little miss to the spare guest room beside my bedroom," he ordered, gesturing at the still, silent child. "You must attend to her needs."

"Yes, Master Draco."

With a snap of Tippy's fingers, her trunk vanished. ”Come, Young Miss," Tippy meekly called, ushering her out. "I will show you to your room."

Draco watched with amusement as Rose reached out for Tippy's hand and held it. Judging from the squeak from his house-elf, he knew Tippy was surprised too.

Before they could completely disappear from his room, Rose craned her neck and stared at Draco with a weird look on her face.

Once they were gone, Draco plopped down on his chair and sighed. He made a mental note to call Theo and discuss his newfound responsibility with him. Probably drink himself into oblivion, too, still in denial that he now was an official babysitter to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley’s child.


	2. The Menace

"What the fuck is that?"

A tiny gasp escaped from Rose's lips as she jumped down from her chair and stomped towards the two adults in the room. Theodore Nott's eyes widened when the young girl comically placed her hands on her hips and stared him down. Funnily enough, she was terribly small and Theo was towering her, but Draco felt it was the reverse.

"Mama said no bad words, Mister!" she cried, complete with a wag of her finger. Draco lifted an eyebrow, thoroughly amused, and bet his whole Quidditch figurine collections that she was perfectly imitating her mother.

Theo thought so, too, as he now directed his wide eyes at his best mate. "Holy shite," he whispered, almost breathlessly. "Mini Granger."

A snort escaped from the blond. He then looked down at the still angry girl and sighed. "Rose," he said. "Why don't you leave these two adults to talk, yes?'

"I'm a big girl, too!" she cried, her hair growing bushier and bushier. "I'm an adult! I can talk to you."

Draco rolled his eyes as Theo mouthed another 'holy shite'. "Yes, and big girls like you should be obedient,” he offered. When she still stood her ground and even crossed her arms, Draco scowled and gestured at her abandoned playthings. “I think Captain Birch and the Tornados need you right now.”

Upon the mention of her favorite Quidditch team, a huge smile broke out of her face and she went back to her seat and proceeded to play with Draco's prized, limited edition figurines. He tried not to flinch as Rose crashed one player with another, their tiny protests falling into the deaf ears of the blissfully happy child. Draco silently apologized to his collections and made a mental note of buying new ones in case his toys died at the hands of the overly zealous fan.

"Okay, adult talking time," Theo said, grabbing Draco's arm and dumping him on the couch. Draco scowled at being manhandled, but the other man ignored him and plopped down beside him. "Care to explain why there's a Mini Granger in your flat?"

"She's a Weasley," he droned matter-of-factly.

Theo waved a dismissive hand. "Technicalities," he flippantly said. He then proceeded to wildly gesticulate towards the general vicinity of the happy child. "Bloody hell, look at her. Save from her ruddy hair, she's the perfect imitation of Hermione Granger."

"She doesn't have her eyes," Draco supplemented.

His best friend gave him a weird look, then snorted. "Oh right, I forgot how you conveniently know everything about our _favorite_ War Heroine."

Draco chose to ignore his comment and willed his pale cheeks not to color.

"Last time I dropped by, which was yesterday morning mind you, you were a perfect bachelor, living the perfect life and now, look at you, a bloody babysitter." Theo snickered as he shied away from Draco's pointy elbow. "What the hell happened, Draco?"

The Malfoy heir sighed through his nose and slumped on his seat. "Granger happened,” he deadpanned. “She and her daughter visited last night.” He wearily massaged his temples and closed his eyes. "For the abridged version, she's off somewhere in China with Potter, chasing Rodolphus Lestrange, who was apparently Weasley's murderer."

Theo whistled under his breath. "Blimey," he said. "No offense, mate, but your uncle is batshit crazy like Bellatrix."

"Yes well, it runs in the family," he wryly joked.

"Apparently, because you're batshit crazy too for letting Granger's daughter stay with you!"

Draco scowled and crossed his arms. "Well what was I supposed to do?" he snapped back. "Granger was desperate and I had no choice."

He internally flinched, knowing that there was another choice to Granger’s favor, but didn’t want to dwell on it further. Draco had done a lot of thinking last night and hadn’t even slept a wink, trying to make sense why he had agreed to be a bloody babysitter to a bloody child. He could have shunned them away, protest incessantly that he wasn’t the right person to take care of a girl, much less _her_ child. But then, he’d remember her eyes – big, wide, and desperate – and Draco hesitantly admitted that he really _didn’t_ have a choice.

"Why didn't she leave her with the Weasel's family?" Theo asked with genuine confusion, halting Draco’s train of thought. "They're a big bunch. I'm sure her daughter will be well loved."

"They weren't on speaking terms.” 

His best friend knitted his eyebrows in confusion. A few seconds after, his eyes widened in understanding. "Skeeter's article," he merely replied, but Draco understood he was pertaining to Molly Weasley's infamous interview.

"And her parents?"

"They don't even remember their daughter," he snarled, growing annoyed with the inquisitions. Knowing Theo for years, though, he knew they wouldn’t stop even with Draco’s request. "I doubt they won’t be happy to accept a stranger's daughter."

Theo fell silent, letting the situation sink in. “Blimey this is so fucked up," Theo commented and looked at him with a mixture of amusement, sympathy, and intrigue. "And Granger trusts you, an ex-Death Eater, a Slytherin bully, a Pureblood bigot, to take care of her daughter?"

Draco glared at his insults, and felt aggravated that they were all true anyway. "Like I said, there was no other choice," he grounded out. "Besides, we've been on missions together and I did save her arse a few times."

"A pretty arse, if you ask me," he murmured with a grin.

"I didn't ask you, Nott," the blond retorted with a glare. Not that he was denying, really, but Theo did not need to know that.

Theo made a face and haphazardly ran his hand through his hair. "I would have questioned your sanity by now, but of course this is Hermione Granger we are talking about." He gave Draco a pointed look.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Draco."

Draco's cheeks lightly reddened. “No, I don’t,” he grumbled, petulantly crossing his arms against his chest.

Theo snorted and lazily leaned against the couch. “Nine years, ladies and gentlemen, and the idiot still denies,” he declared to no one.

“Shut up, Nott," he grumbled.

His best friend rolled his eyes, then raised his arms in surrender.

The Malfoy heir sighed and slumped back on his seat. "What am I going to do, Theo?" he wearily asked.

"Don't ask me, I'm as clueless as you are."

"Then why do I even bother talking to you, wanker?" Draco asked.

The brown-haired Slytherin gave him a dazzling grin. "Because I'm your best mate and you like me a lot," he stated it matter-of-factly. He laughingly dodged Draco's fist. "How long will she be staying then?"

"A week, maybe a month, I don't know. Granger wasn't exactly helpful when I asked her last night," he retorted.

Loud chuckles rang in his flat and it was a strange sound to be heard in his normally silent home. Draco frowned at this thought, shot a bewildered look at the Rose’s bushy mane of red hair, and once again wondered if letting her stay with him was a good thing. _All right_ , it was _insane_ , but he’d done a lot of insane things in his life before. He wasn’t just sure where this… this babysitting thing stands in the spectrum.

"Granger gave me some instructions and her things, so I'll manage." He conveniently left out the fact that he still wasn't able to read Granger's foot-long instructions. He had this inkling he wouldn’t even bother himself with reading it.

"What will you do if the child starts asking questions about her mother?" Theo asked. "She's Granger's daughter, so I bet she's a know-it-all, too, and I’m sure she knows that _something_ is wrong. But she's just a child, Draco. She needs her mother and she's bound to ask questions."

It was one of the worries that kept him up last night. Children were notorious for their terrible tantrums. Draco had no idea how to appease one, especially a child who most likely inherited her father's emotional range of a teaspoon. It didn’t help that she was also the spawn of _Hermione Granger_ – she wasn’t known for her cool, calm demeanor after all.

His thoughts were disrupted when he felt his robes being tugged incessantly. He looked down with a frown and saw a pouting child.

"Draco, I'm hungry," she said.

A quick look on his watch said it was already lunch time. “I’ll let Tippy know that we’ll eat soon,” he answered.

Rose nodded her head. He expected that she’d go back to wreaking havoc with his figurines but was thoroughly confused when she lifted her tiny arms in the air, towards him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Up, up!" she exclaimed, wiggling her fingers. When Draco continued to blankly look at her, she started stomping her feet. "Up, up!"

"Mate, call me a child whisperer or something, but I think Mini Granger wants to be carried," Theo whispered, amusement thick in the tone of his voice.

Draco looked aghast. "What?" he growled, paling with the thought of lifting a child in his arms.

"Up, up!" the redhead cried, now utterly frustrated. "Up, up, Draco!"

The blond shot Theo a desperate look, who merely smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, what are you waiting for?” his best mate asked, gesturing at the tot.

Softly groaning, Draco lifted the impatient child in his arms. Unsurprisingly, she felt so light. Much to his horror, Rose bubbled happily and wrapped her puny arms around his neck.

Draco knew he looked stupid. Theo's wide smirk was enough proof. Damn it all, he did not even know how to properly carry a child. The closest thing he had carried was a _house-elf,_ and Salazar, he didn’t want any repeat of that experience. His left arm was angled in a weird position; he could already feel pins and needles prickling his arm. But then, he was afraid he would suddenly drop her if he moved his arm a bit.

"Well, this is sickeningly domestic," Theo said, jumping onto his feet. "Please excuse me as I go home and gouge out my eyeballs."

He then toothily grinned and peered at the child who looked exactly like Granger with Weasley's hair and eyes.

"Goodbye, Mini Granger," he said. "I'll see you next time."

"My name's Rose," she pointed out with a pout. "And I don't like you."

Theo broke into a full-blown smile and merely patted Rose's hair. He then grabbed a pinch of floo power, threw it into the fireplace and disappeared soon after.

Rose then tugged Draco's hair to get his attention. "I'm hungry," she repeated.

Draco sighed. He desperately wished that Hermione would be back soon.

* * *

Handling the Malfoy business was terribly taxing and complicated.

Draco hated every second of it.

He glared at another letter, surprisingly written on Muggle paper, which was about a stockholders meeting he had to attend to in Geneva for a company selling cars.

 _Cars_. The Muggle contraption for transportation.

He sneered. His family was notoriously anti-Muggle; he was sure that wasn’t news to the whole Wizarding World. He remembered how his father almost had an aneurysm when Draco brought home toy cars after urging one of his house-elves to buy one. Suffice to say, he never saw that poor house-elf ever again and Draco did not dare breathe anything Muggle-related in the Malfoy Manor, unless if he was degrading them.

Turns out his family had been stockholders to not only one, but numerous Muggle companies, for centuries now. He understood, as soon as the business was passed onto him, that the most probable reason why the Malfoy riches had been stable despite the expensive war was because they had external sources - _Muggle_ sources. He sure as hell knew his father would not stoop _that_ low as to interact with these Muggle companies. The proof was the existence of a department in Malfoy Enterprises that handled all the dirty work for him.

He could not help but feel embittered how a Muggle car, which gave him trouble as a five-year-old, had been actually supplying them with money.

If the media got wind of the ultra-secret Malfoy business, they would have a field day.

He crumpled another paper, this time the typical wizard one, and threw it away. He hated this. He did not want to work at home, behind a desk, passively waiting as their vaults filled up with galleons and gold from all the companies they were affiliated to. Draco missed the action, the rush of adrenaline, the anticipation for danger, and he would gladly trade everything just to encounter one.

He had always wanted to become a Curse Breaker. After the war, however, he did not attempt to apply. After all, who could hire a notorious Ex-Death Eater, one that almost killed Albus Dumbledore, champion of the poor and downtrodden? He had worked incessantly to redeem himself, but the world was still unforgiving. In the eyes of the people, he was still the same sixteen-year-old boy who made stupid decisions in life. It was unfair, but his five-year-old self who had been fascinated by Muggle toy cars already learned that life was simply just that.

A knock resounded in his study and he distractedly let the intruder in. Small pattering of footsteps reached his ears, and he assumed it was just Tippy, about to clean his study area. When he glanced behind him and saw no one, he frowned.

"What are you doing?"

He flinched in surprise, eyes now moving below him, and saw the menace. She was honestly so tiny it was a wonder she had not lost herself in his vast flat.

"Working," he deadpanned, grabbing another letter to read.

"What are you working on?" she asked inquisitively, trying to peer on his mahogany table but her height had hindered her from doing so.

"Some adult stuff a child like you shouldn't concern herself with," he answered, scowling darkly at the offensive letter. A Wizarding company demanded compensation for his absence for three consecutive meetings. _‘As if they were productive meetings,’_ he thought with a frown, remembering the particular CEO hounding on and on about his accomplishments in life. If Draco had a say, he would have cut ties with this company already. Well, he _did_ have a say, but he already felt tired with the possibility of bombarded questions from the Board of Directors.

"What adult stuff?"

Draco groaned and glared down at the little girl. "Go away, I'm busy," he snapped, also crumpling the said letter and throwing it away.

Rose immediately ran to the direction of the paper, grabbed it with her hands, and gave it back to him.

"You dropped this, Draco," she said with a sweet smile, looking very proud of herself. Draco could already feel a headache forming.

"I threw it away," he corrected, but nonetheless snatched the paper from her hands and hid it in his drawer. _“Out of sight, out of mind,’_ he sneered. Then, to the girl, he frowned and asked, "What are you even doing here?"

Little Rose rocked on her heels and pouted. "I'm bored," she declared.

"Go play with my figurines," he said with shooing motions. _'More fittingly wreck them, you menace.'_

"I don't wanna play anymore," she whined, tugging her curls in frustration.

Draco sighed. "Then what do you want to do?" he asked.

"I wanna watch the telly."

"The what?"

"The telly," she repeated, using a tone that was reserved for five-year-olds like her, and not him. "Mama usually allows me to watch one cartoon before she tucks me to bed."

He did not even know what a kartown was. "Look, Mini Granger, this isn't your home and I don't have this telly with kartowns - .”

“ _Cartoons_ -.”

“What?” he asked, scowling once more.

“It’s cartoons,” she simply said.

“I don’t bloody care,” he exclaimed in exasperation. “So if you could just go away and let me do my business..."

She comically placed her hands against her hips. Granger would be so proud her daughter was aspiring to be like her.

"My name is Rose, and you're not nice," she pointed out with a glare.

"Yes, well, I don't do nice," he drawled with his infamous smirk. "Now if you'd just go and leave the adult alone..."

She stomped her feet in frustration, blew a raspberry, before turning away and running out of his door.

Once she was gone, Draco rolled his eyes and went back to his business letters. After reading another one, he finally gave up and called it a night. Those corporate bastards were still going to fill the Malfoy Gringotts account anyway so he did not bother finishing everything tonight.

* * *

She sat on the carpeted flood, amidst the chaos, with an innocent, sweet smile on her face. She was deceptively charming, Draco could give her that. He wondered if the child would be sorted to Slytherin once she started school.

"What, in the name of all the good deeds Merlin did, happened _here_?" he quietly demanded, trying to keep his composure as two paper maches of characters he did not recognize tried to have a competition on who could climb his trousers the fastest.

His right eye twitched, angrily shaking them away. Little screams escaped from their paper mouths and Draco scowled. If he was not enraged, he would have marvelled Granger’s child’s accidental powers.

"Ma-Master Draco," his personal house-elf tittered. "Tippy will e-explain."

Or maybe his house-elf also did something to help Rose. His scowl darkened; it was official - she was a _menace._ How dare she dragged his personal house-elf in all of this… this _chaos_. Draco had to ball his hands into fist and concentrate on them to keep his temper in check.

The house-elf then bowed extremely low, nose almost touching the floor, in fear of the wrath of his master. Draco noted the silly, frilly dress he was wearing. No doubt Rose had forced him to wear one. There was even a silly hat perched on his head, which was unable to keep his huge ears in place.

"I'm having a tea party," the little girl simply said. "And you're not invited because you're not nice, right Barbie?"

She was talking to a stick-thin, model-like doll seated right beside her. Blinking, Draco noticed that there were other toys gathered around her - a yellow bear with a red shirt with no shorts, a yellow square stuffed toy that looked hilariously like a sponge, another lanky toy that was dressed like a Muggle cowboy, and three, little girls each wearing the same clothes of red, blue, and green respectively.

His eyes roamed all over his living room - or what was left of it, really. He had this inkling Rose forced Tippy to transfigure the whole room with frills, and pinks, and anything sickeningly sweet and happy and colorful. Draco felt sick, flashbacks of Dolores Umbridge's room invading his memories.

He hated that sodding toad.

"Ti-Tippy is sorry, Master Draco," his house-elf blubbered on. "Tippy will now return everything back. Tippy is a bad elf." He then proceeded to slam his head against a nearby lamp.

At the same time, Granger's daughter jumped onto her feet, knocking off her tea set, and exclaimed an indignant “No!” Her animated toys flinched at her outburst and comically clung to each other.

 _'I don't have time for this,'_ the weary blond thought. He made a disgusted face as he spied a huge portrait of kittens playing around on a dandy field. Stupid Umbridge came back into memory once more.

"You can't!" Rose continued, running closer to Draco. "I'm playing!"

"You ruined my room," Draco warned, nostrils flaring.

"I made it pretty," the girl corrected with a pout. "Barbie and the Powerpuff Girls like it very much." She pointed at her said toys, the model and the three girls, who vigorously nodded their heads. He spied the cowboy making a face.

"Tippy," he curtly said with a glare.

Instantly, his house-elf snapped his fingers. Everything returned back to normal and his nausea thankfully abated.

"NO!" Rose tearfully cried, stomping her feet in frustration. "TIPPY!"

The house-elf was torn, looking between him and the furiously crying girl.

"You may go," Draco ordered, and Tippy did not need to be told twice.

Big, fat tears rolled down from the little redhead, and Draco felt a little uncomfortable. Crying girls made him feel awkward. What more if it was a crying child? But he was a Slytherin. Gryffindors would have cracked by now and appeased the seemingly inconsolable girl. Gods, Hufflepuffs would have coddled her right now. No, he was Slytherin, and he was going to handle this situation like the perfect Slytherin he was.

For starters, he sneered.

In return, Rose Weasley scowled, tears streaming down her big, blue eyes, and proceeded to kick him in the shin.

"Mother of -!" he cried, doubling over to massage his smarting shin, but the little girl was already running away.

"I DON'T LIKE YOU!" she wailed, as she climbed up the stairs. He cringed when she loudly slammed her door shut.

"Bloody girl," he muttered. She gave a mean kick, his scowl darkening. Of course, what was he to expect? She was the daughter of  _Hermione Granger_.

His nose made an involuntary twitch from a particular memory involving Granger's fist.

* * *

Draco was jerked awake, right hand blindly grasping his wand under his pillow and sat up. The war had improved his senses, especially when he was sent to missions that required constant vigilance. Mad-Eye Moody would be proud of him.

" _Lumos_ ," he whispered. Instant light illuminated his room. Peering suspiciously around his room, his molten eyes finally landed on the sniffing, small bundle standing in front of his door.

"Rose?" he asked with a frown.

The crying girl noiselessly pattered on his bedroom floor, dragging what appeared to be a stuffed toy behind her.

Every part of him said that he should ignore the crying girl. Tears made him wholly uncomfortable and Rose had honestly been a handful today. Draco just wanted to rest, perhaps put a Silencing Charm on the menace, and blissfully snooze himself into oblivion. Which was why he didn’t understand why his bloody mouth opened and spouted, “What’s wrong?"

Rose haphazardly wiped her face. "When will Mama be back?" she asked in a tiny whisper.

Draco internally groaned. He had braced himself with this question, but had been hoping it wouldn’t come too soon. Not even a day passed, but she was already asking about her mother. He mentally released colourful swears, trying to rack his brain for a decent answer to the distressed child.

"Soon," he finally said, thinking it was the best answer to her question.  

"When is that?" she questioned, more tears welling from her eyes. Up close, her eyes were already swollen and snot were running down from her nose. Draco wrinkled his nose in slight disgust, but conjured a tissue out of thin air and offered it to the child.

Rose grabbed it from his hand and haphazardly wiped her face, but had only successfully managed to smear it all over and not remove it. Scowling, Draco conjured another tissue and did it for her instead.

"Your mother will be back," he told her with a twinge of irritation. He was tired and annoyed, mostly to her mother that had chosen him, _of all people,_ to take care of her child. He was perfectly happy of how things were before she came back into his life and he’d be damned if he’d be stuck with her daughter for a very long time.He adamantly refused to even consider that Granger wouldn't come back.

She sniffled and hugged her stuffed toy tightly against her chest. "I miss Mama," she cried.

How the hell was he to talk to a child? Looking back, the only decent conversation he ever had were with his house-elves. Mother had tried to coddle him, but Father ruled with an iron fist. During his times of distress, the only comfort he got were toys and food prepared by the house-elves. His experience with distressed children would be understandably abysmal.

The redhead looked worried and inconsolable. Draco was reminded of a stray kitten, abandoned and ignored under a torrential storm. A slow frown soon formed on his face, feeling a brief pang of pity for the child. It was brief, but he had felt it.

Without putting much thought in it, he lifted her onto his bed and placed her beside him. Rose’s blue eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t climb back down.

"Yes, well, I'm sure she misses you too," he murmured in discomfort, wondering if it was the right thing to say.

It took exactly five minutes before Rose’s small voice whispered, "You promise?"

Her face had considerably brightened, her eyes still shining from tears and now hope. Draco took that as a good sign. ”I do," he grunted with a stiff nod. He frowned, carefully thinking of his following words that would be understood by a five-year-old. "Your mother is… busy fighting bad guys right now, but I’m sure she always thinks of you.”

Rose sniffed and leaned against Draco. The blond, with a frown, awkwardly patted her back. Never in his life did he imagine he would be consoling a child. Making them cry, sure, but comforting one… _well_. How the mighty, magnificent Slytherin Prince had fallen.

Trying to think of a distraction, for Rose’s distress and for his uneasiness, he quickly pointed at the plush dragon clutched against her.

"He wasn't in your tea party," he stated.

The little girl, to his relief, giggled. “Sir Ginger doesn't like tea parties," she stated matter-of-factly.

“Sir Ginger?" he asked, lifting an amused eyebrow. What an odd name for such a ferocious beast.

"My best friend," she said, presenting her stuffed toy with a proud smile. It was actually a sickening cute toy, with a dark shade of green for scales and purple spots near its tail. “He keeps away the monsters when I sleep.”

He smirked. "I'm sure he does," he replied, slightly condescending which the child did not thankfully hear. He noted, however, that her tears had finally abated and felt proud of himself for diverting her attention from her mother.

A sudden gurgling sound emitted from Rose's tummy, prompting the girl to giggle again.

Draco stared at her in bewilderment, before a small smirk stretched on his face. "Well, someone's hungry," he said. She had refused to eat dinner a while ago, apparently still throwing a tantrum from her disrupted tea party.

"May I eat cookies, Draco, please?" she politely asked, hope shining in her blue eyes.

"Does your Mama allow you to eat cookies after bedtime?"

Mini Granger sheepishly grinned. "Mama gets mad if I do," she admitted, albeit still a little hopeful. “Especially after I brushed my teeth.”

He was thoughtful for a while, before a wicked, sneaky grin appeared on his face. "Then cookies you shall have," he declared, prompting the girl to squeal excitedly and race out of his room.

Granger would have his head for breaking one of her rules, but she did not really need to know that.


	3. The Ice Cream

"I want ice cream, Draco."

The said blond expelled a monumental sigh and glared at the determined redhead. "You really shouldn't barge into my study any time you like," he scolded, but Mini Granger merely lifted her chin in childish defiance.

"I want ice cream," she repeated, this time crossing her arms against her chest.

Draco rolled his eyes then looked at the report sent to him by Healer Matthews. Although stable, his mother still had not made a good progress since last month; he really should visit his mother soon. "I'm sure I can get Tippy to make you one."

"No, no Florean's!" she exclaimed. "Florean's, Draco."

He frowned and looked at Rose once more. "But that's in Diagon Alley," he pointed out. When Rose vigorously nodded her head, Draco incessantly shook his. "I have too many things to do than frolic outside, Rose."

Her bottom lip protruded out. "Mama always brings me to the Alley on Saturdays," she said.

Draco's eyes widened, his gaze falling onto the calendar on his table. _'Saturday,'_ he thought. It was a stormy Sunday when Hermione Granger suddenly appeared in his flat and dropped off her child for him to babysit. It was almost a week, and he still had not heard from his former bushy-haired schoolmate. With dread in his heart, Draco had a feeling Hermione would not appear by the end of the week.

"Draco," Rose said, tugging on his robes. "Ice cream!"

He sighed, suddenly feeling tired and lent back on his chair. "I'll tell Tippy to get some ice cream from Florean's and - " He trailed off, with Rose this time vigorously shaking her head.

"No, no, we _go_ to the Alley," she said with an indignant stomp. "Mama always brings me to the Alley.”

"Well your Mama is not here so piss off and leave me alone," he exclaimed in exasperation. Almost a week had passed but the menace continued to bother him. Draco was slowly going insane.

Rose glared. "No, we will go to Diagon Alley for ice cream!" she shouted. His nearby inkwell suddenly shattered into pieces. The ink splattered all over his mahogany table, prompting him to groan.

"You're as stubborn as your mother," he snarled at her, absentmindedly magic-ing the mess her accidental magic made. "Fine!" he then said, throwing his arms in the air. "But we're only going to Florean's then head straight home, understand?"

The change in her demeanour was instantaneous. Rose squealed in delight and dashed out of his study to get ready.

Draco released another sigh and slumped back onto his chair.

"Hurry up, Granger," he snarled to no one. Draco wondered when he would get his peace and quiet once again.

* * *

Suffice it to say, Draco was really not out much. He would usually visit either the Malfoy Manor or St. Mungo's to check on his ailing mother. The Malfoy business also required him to get out of the country multiple times; although famous, he was received neutrally. Into Wizarding London, however, he never really ventured out ever since, _well_ , the Dark Lord's demise.

The stares and whispers he received were all too much, reminding him of his horrible misdeeds and the small, insignificant fact that he was the Death Eater that brought his comrades into Hogwarts for terrorization. He was forever labelled Dumbledore's almost murderer, the true murderer part being crowned to his late godfather. But Severus Snape proved that he was Dumbledore's man through and through. Draco only became an Order member when he failed to kill Dumbledore and Voldemort killed Lucius in an act of rage.

He especially hated crowded places like Diagon Alley. Knockturn Alley was tolerable, but then again, the usual wanderers of this dark alley were either locked up in Azkaban or dead. Diagon Alley, on the other hand… _well_ , Draco had his worst memories here during and after the Second Wizarding War, and he'd rather steer clear from it.

"Hurry up, Draco!" Rose happily babbled, her little legs speeding out. Draco had no choice but to grab onto her and carry her, so as not to lose her. Although admittedly frustrated and a little bit angered that Hermione left her daughter to him, Draco knew he should never cross Granger by losing her daughter in the busy alley.

As predicted, every step he made garnered him suspicious, hostile glares. Others even scuttled away in fright. Draco tugged onto his sleeve in discomfort until they reached his wrist, in fear that his faded mark would show. He had poured himself in thick tomes both in Hogwarts and the Malfoy library, but he never found the right spell or potion to remove the blasted Dark Mark. It was a pale grey nowadays, as opposed to its dark, glinting color during Voldemort’s resurrection. He’d be damned if it started to darken once more.

His thoughts were disrupted when he bumped quite hardly against a burly man.

“Watch it, _Death Eater_ ,” he hissed with a dark glare.

Draco scowled in reply. _‘Why is this place bloody crowded?’_ he thought in exasperation, deciding to take a detour from the main road and into one of the small alleyways. _‘The faster we get her damn ice cream, the better.’_

"They all look at you funny, Draco."

Surprised, Draco looked at the small child in his arms. "What do you mean?" he asked, curious.

"People look at Mama and Uncle Harry funny too when we go to Diagon Alley," Rose explained. She then craned her neck to look up at Draco. "But they look mad at you, Draco. Did you do something wrong?”

He snorted and was about to answer her, but then two men blocked their way. Draco coolly looked at their direction. Deep inside, however, his heart thudded loudly. The looks on their faces were far less friendly and he had this sinking feeling this altercation would not end pretty.

"What are you doing here, _Death Eater_?" one snarled, with crooked teeth and pointy nose. Draco thought he looked like Rookwood and wrinkled his nose. He remembered he was a bastard and it was good he was already dead.

“Interesting insult,” he snarled with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ve done a job well done for hurting my feelings.”

The man’s eyes dangerously flashed and even bared his teeth. The state of his teeth was more ghastly than what he had originally thought.

“Let us pass through and we will all go our merry ways, yes?” Draco coldly replied his mercurial eyes locked intently at Crooked Teeth. One thing he would be forever thankful for his Death Eater trainings (or being generally a Malfoy, really) was the fact that he was quite good in masking his emotions. It had driven some people insane, _especially_ Hermione, since they could not decipher what he was thinking and feeling. It was one trait that made him a perfect Slytherin, honestly.

"They should have sent you to Azkaban, bastard!" the shorter, stouter man with goatee shrilly exclaimed. He shook with anger and pulled out his wand. Draco took a few careful steps back. ”You _killed_ my wife."

All the color drained from Draco's face. He could not remember this man, so he had no recollection whatsoever of his accusations. But he had... _hurt_ a lot of nameless people before and he would not be surprised that Goatee's wife was really one of his victims.

"You're not nice, Mister!" Rose suddenly exclaimed, glaring at the two men.

Draco's eyes widened, remembering he was not alone. He absentmindedly tightened his hold on Rose and scanned their general vicinity. There were lesser people here and most of them were either pointedly ignoring the sudden commotion or did not care one whit. _‘They really thought this through, those bastards,’_ he thought, brief fear slipping through his mask. It would have been better if he was alone; he could handle them and probably exercise his duelling skills today. But he was with a _child_ , and that did not bode too well.

Crooked Teeth narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I'm Rose,” the redhead snottily said, lifting her chin in perfect confidence.

"Is he hurting you?" Goatee demanded, shakily pointing his wand at Draco. The blond merely rolled his eyes, riling up the man more. He suddenly took quick steps forward, his wand end growing closer to Draco’s face. ”What are you going to do with her?!"

Rose flinched at the wand and the man's tone and instantly buried her face against Draco's neck.

"Answer me, Malfoy!” he demanded, prompting the child to release a frightened squeal and tightened her hold around Draco.

"Hey, hey you're frightening her!" Draco growled, shifting Rose in his arms so that she would be farthest from the wand. "And it's not any of your damn business,  _Goatee_.”

Crooked Teeth mouthed the nickname with a frown while the other man growled and tried to lunge at him. Rose shrieked and Draco took a step back, releasing a string of curse words. With his arms wrapped around Rose, he could not reach for his wand on time. He then internally cursed his running, stupid mouth. If he had kept his mouth shut and received the insults passively, then they would have left this alley unscathed. 

"Mate, he has a _child_ ," Crooked Teeth hissed and restrained his friend.

His companion struggled against his tight grip, thrashing wildly with a crazed look in his eyes. Draco thickly swallowed, not really blaming Goatee for his bloodlust. Then, he slumped against the other tall man in misery and released an anguished sob. "She didn't deserve that,” he spat with raw emotions and Draco was driven to look away. “It is _f_ ilth like  _you_ who do not deserve to live."

His words stabbed Draco straight into his heart. Jaw tightening, he watched wordlessly as Crooked Teeth pulled his grieving friend away and left Draco and Rose alone.

He was silent for ages, the man's words repeating in his mind again and again.

It was the truth. Damn it all he was right. He was fucked up and evil and he did not deserve to be freely roaming around this busy street while families mourned for all the people he had killed. Granger should not have testified in his hearing. He spent his first year of adulthood finally fighting for what he truly thought was right, defecting from Voldemort and aiding the Light Side with information and assistance. In the eyes of the some of the members, he finally did something right.

But it was not _enough_.

The echoes of the screams of people he had killed still haunted him at night. Tormented begging had plagued his darkest days. Theo had been seeing a Mind Healer for his battle wounds and had been doing well for the past year. He had urged Draco to go to one, to finally give himself peace for all the horrors he had seen, but Draco knew he did not deserve to forget. He believed he should forever punish himself by _remembering_ every torture, every injury, and every death he had inflicted as his lifelong penance.

"Draco?"

Her tiny voice snapped him off his inner turmoil. Jaw still tight, he emotionlessly looked down at the child in his arms. Rose's blue eyes were wide and dewy, but he could see a new emotion there.

_Concern._

Granger had looked at him like that, especially on his bad days, and a lump formed in his throat.

"The bad men are away, Draco," she softly said.

Chuckling darkly, Draco thought it was him that was the bad man after all.

“You all right, Draco?” Rose asked with worry, placing her right hand on his forehead to smooth out his worry lines. Draco thickly swallowed the lump, remembering the same thing Rose did to Hermione when he had upset her, and found himself slightly comforted.

“Draco?”

The blond sighed. "Let's just get your ice cream and fucking get away from here."

Noting Draco's distress, the little girl did not comment on his language.

* * *

The ice cream shop was almost empty, to his utmost relief. When he entered, with Rose in his arms, Florean merely looked at him suspiciously, or more fittingly his blond hair, then smiled warmly at Rose. Draco figured the owner recognized Rose, seeing she often visited here with Granger and Potter.

Draco brought her to a secluded booth, away from prying eyes. There was a couple to their far right, but they were too busy making googly eyes at each other to notice the former Death Eater. A mother and child was also somewhere near the door, but the boy was throwing a tantrum, enough to distract his mother.

"What flavor do you want?" he coldly asked, still miffed with their encounter a while ago.

Rose was deep in thought, taking her sweet time to decide. When Draco’s patience had ran thin, he was about to demand for a bloody flavour when suddenly, a wide, mischievous grin grew on her mouth. "Peanut butter with chocolate chip cookie bits, please."

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and then slowly nodded his head. "All right, but you will eat it quickly so that we can go back immediately, yes?"

"Yes, Draco," she echoed with a resolute nod.

He looked at her for a few more seconds before ordering their ice creams. Draco merely got a vanilla flavored one, not really a huge fan of sweets.

When he placed the huge scoop of ice cream in front of her, Rose's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets.

"You never had this flavor?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow in mild amusement.

Rose shook her head, her curls wildly swinging around. "Mama never got me this flavor," she confessed.

Draco frowned, wondering why Granger, who undoubtedly doted on her daughter, never bought her this flavor she clearly liked.

He then shrugged, brushed the thought away, and picked up his spoon to start eating. As he dug his spoon deeply into the ice cream, he frowned and looked at Rose, who was staring unabashedly at him. “What?” he grumbled with a glare. “Eat.”

As the redhead slowly took her spoon, her eyes still questioningly looked at him.

“ _What_?” he repeated.

Rose blinked her owlish eyes thrice, before primly placing the spoon back on the table. She had a determined look on her face and he did not like it one bit. “What is a… Death Eater?” she slowly asked, her eyes never leaving his form.

Draco choked on his ice cream, eyes widening in astonishment. Her question had caught him off guard and he darkly scowled. How was he supposed to explain to a five-year-old child that a Death Eater was some fucked up job of killing people and spreading terror for the good-for-nothing Dark Lord? And _oh,_ how he used to be one and he should really be in Azkaban for being a failure in life.

“Mama and Uncle Harry kept on saying that,” Rose explained, seemingly oblivious with Draco’s panic and distress. “I asked them once but Mama only tells me they are bad people.”

A wry smile appeared on his face. “That sums up everything you need to know on Death Eaters,” he replied.

Rose still looked at him curiously. “The man with the funny beard called you one, Draco,” she innocently said. “Are you a bad person?”

For such a small child, she was awfully perceptive. It was rare for him not to have a witty comeback; surprisingly, today was one of those days. He stared at her, unsure of what to answer.

“Yeah,” he finally said, feeling strangely empty. “I am.”

Rose gazed at him with her impossible blue eyes, slowly frowning. “I thought so, too,” she piped in with her childish glares. “You say bad words and get angry a lot. Mama said you should be nice to people to be a good person.”

He gaped at her naive statement for minutes, before bursting into boisterous laughter.

The redhead coloured in confused embarrassment, crossing her arms against her chest. “It’s not funny,” she said.

He was laughing too hard that tears welled up in the corner of his eyes. “Just bloody eat your ice cream so that we can get the hell away from here,” he said with a wide grin that hurt his cheeks.

Rose glared at him, but did not need to be told twice. Eagerly, she dug into her ice cream and Draco did the same, hurrying to finish it.

Suddenly, gasping and choking noises directed his eyes on Rose once more. The child was horrifyingly grasping her neck, her face swelling up and turning purple, and Draco loudly swore.

"What is going on?! What have you done?!" Florean demanded, pointing his wand at Draco. The couple and the mother were curiously looking at their booth.

"Oh shite, oh shite," Draco said, panicked, and pushed Florean out of the way. He then picked up the choking child and side-along Apparated into St. Mungo’s despite the ice cream parlour owner’s protest.

He arrived in a messy heap, sprawled onto the sterilized floor. "Help!" he croaked, fearfully looking at the eerily limp Rose in his arms. "I need help!"

A flurry of lime robes pried Rose away from him and Draco helplessly looked on, praying to whatever beings in the universe that she was all right.

* * *

"You are fucking stupid, Malfoy, you hear me?" Theo exclaimed with a half-hearted glare. The bastard was trying to stifle a smile and annoyed, Draco kicked his shin. He watched with a satisfied smirk as Theo scowled and massaged his smarting leg.

They were in a waiting room; thankfully alone save from a snoozing, balding man and a wrinkly old lady who looked like she was lost in her own world.

"How could you miss this, Draco?" Theo demanded. "Oh, Granger will kill you if she gets wind of this."

“Which is why she should _never_ get wind of this,” he replied, glaring when a wicked, conniving smirk grew on Theo’s face. “You will be the first person I’ll kill if she discovered this.”

“Not if she kills you first, Malfoy,” he said, the smirk still in place.

His cheeks tinged with pink and he darkly glared at Theo. "Shut up, Nott," he murmured under his breath. He glared darkly at the crumpled sheet in his hands, Granger's list of instructions, and scowled at number 5, which stated that Rose was allergic to peanuts and she had nasty, deadly reactions to it. Now, it made sense why Granger never allowed her daughter to have that ice cream flavor she clearly loved in the first place.

"You never read her instructions, did you?" Theo accused.

He darkly scowled, but guiltily looked away.

"Oh, give me that," Theo said with a sigh, snatching the parchment from Draco's hands. "For all of our sake's, I will memorize all of this in case you fucked up once more and this time landed in Azkaban for killing an innocent child."

Draco snatched the list back. "Fuck you, Nott," he said, and proceeded to thoroughly read Granger's twenty-one list of instructions on how to take care of her daughter.

He snarled at the first one, reminding him to never let Rose wander alone and without company. He knew that one, of course, even if he did not read Granger's list. He glared at number 5 once more, and determinedly memorized all of the do's and don’ts’s of taking care Rose Weasley.

"I should have read this list when she told me to," Draco said with a sigh as he folded the parchment and placed it inside his pocket.

“Yeah, you really should have," Theo completely concurred, ignoring his best friend's glare. "I mean this is Granger we're talking about, mate. The woman's a bossy know-it-all to boot but we can't deny that she's a perfectionist and a bleeding Gryffindor at heart. She wouldn't have left you her daughter without properly thinking and planning about everything. You are an idiot for refusing such a generous act of kindness from her.”

"Shut it now, Nott," Draco growled in warning. He also, however, could not stifle the roaring guilt at the pit of his stomach. It made him sick, remembering Rose’s choking and swollen face, prompting him to involuntarily shiver in horror.

Before Theo could retort in reply, the door to the waiting room opened. A young Healer, about in her early twenties, strode inside with eyes on her parchment.

"Guardian for Rose Weasley?" she asked.

"That would be me," Draco said, immediately standing up from his seat. Theo followed suit.

The Mediwitch frowned at him, or more particularly at his hair, then gazed back at her list. "Umm, Draco… _Malfoy_?” She breathed his last name in surprise, even taking a step back a little in unconcealed fright.

Draco scowled at her reaction, and cursed himself for not thinking of bringing Rose to the nonjudgmental eyes of Healer Matthews instead. He had known his mother’s healer for ages and he was a competent healer. He would have taken care of Rose without making a fuss. He mentally noted this in case there would be future unfortunate accidents of the said child.

"Is there a problem?" Theo smoothly asked, placing a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder as he took a step forward.

The Healer nervously cleared her throat. “Your… charge is ready to go," she said, then quickly swiveled around and walked away.

Theo rolled his eyes at his mute best friend and pulled him out of the room.

She led them in a ward that was obviously for pediatric cases. The room was brightly lit, painted with playful colors. At one corner was solely for playthings, with toys strewn around and even a mini slide. Draco immediately spotted the redhead happily playing with one of the stuffed toys in the room. He released a shaky sigh, relieved that the swelling was gone and she was normally breathing once more.

"The papers had been processed and you just have to pay for her fees at the Discharge Area, Mister Mal… err.” The Healer blushed and hurriedly excused herself.

Draco briefly glared at her retreating back. Then, with three big strides he reached the redhead.

"Rose," he called, slightly flinching at how relieved he sounded. He determinedly ignored Theo's amused stare.

"Draco!" she happily exclaimed and pattered closer to the blond. She then lifted her tiny arms in the air. "Up, up!"

He lifted her up without any second thoughts at all, also secretly relieved that she did not blame him for her near death experience. But then again, Rose was merely five and he wondered if she completely understood what happened to her.

"I was looking everywhere for you," she told him with wild gestures. "I'm hungry."

Beside him, Theo snorted. "So she did inherit the Weasel's infamous appetite," he pointed out.

"You okay?" Draco asked, ignoring Theo’s comment.

"Yes," she chirpily replied. "But I'm hungry, Draco. Let's go home."

_'Home,'_ he echoed in his mind. He wondered when Rose started thinking of his simple flat as somewhere akin to ‘home’.

"Let's go home," he repeated awkwardly, feeling strangely happy.


	4. The Bedtime Story

Rose recuperated wonderfully, seemingly oblivious that she almost died yesterday. It was wonderful, _too wonderful_ in fact that the menace decided to wreak havoc the very next day. 

"Draco! Draco! Draco!" the excited girl exclaimed, bouncing on her chair as she pointed a maple syrup-covered finger on a particular spot in the Daily Prophet.

The blond sighed and looked away from his own copy of the Daily Prophet. Apparently, Granger did not want to cancel her subscription while she was away and directed it to his house instead. Seeing that he had his own subscription, Rose claimed the extra newspaper. The young girl made excited noises at the moving pictures and even practiced her reading. It was comical to see a child reading the newspaper, but Draco couldn't help but feel a little amused every time Rose repeated a particularly difficult word perfectly.

"What is it now, Rose?" he asked, placing his newspaper aside and gulped his lukewarm coffee. He made a face and shot an envious look at Rose’s steaming mug of hot cocoa. Perhaps, he should request Tippy to make two mugs of hot cocoa every breakfast starting tomorrow. He never particularly liked coffee, but it was a growing necessity as an adult if he had to go through the day in one piece.

"It's Captain Birch! Look!" She shoved the newspaper too closely to his face that he got a little cross-eyed. Rolling his eyes, he pried her tiny fists away from the newspaper and placed it at a comfortable reading distance.

Brevis Birch, captain of the Tutshill Tornados, was flashing a brilliant smile and waving happily at him. A meet and greet caption followed the picture, stating that the Quidditch captain will be available for the book signing of his autobiography, _'My Life as a Tornado'_ in Flourish and Blotts.

"Can we go?" she sweetly asked, showing off her complete set of baby teeth. "Oh, please please, Draco. I know you like the Tornados, too!"

He had been a huge fan even before he stepped foot into Hogwarts. Despite losing because of their Keeper's narcolepsy, the team continued to be Draco's favorite. Admittedly, he had been following the team's stats every year and although the idea of meeting the Captain and letting him sign a book was a thrilling thought - not that he'd admit it out loud because Merlin, he's a _Malfoy_ - the thought of going back to crowded Diagon Alley too soon… _well_ …

"Please, please Draco, I promise to be good," Rose pleaded, clasping both of her hands together as an added effect. "Let me see Birch, oh please please please."

Draco sighed and placed the newspaper aside. He still felt completely responsible for Rose's allergic reaction yesterday and he had mulled over how to make up for it. He made it a point to instruct Tippy that the little girl's favorite breakfast was French toasts and hot cocoa with marshmallows. He even hinted that the house-elf should add additional marshmallows the redhead seemed to love. He also told Tippy to mix her green peas with her food, as long as it would not be visibly seen, because Granger specifically told him her daughter hated her green peas and must therefore be hidden amidst the food. Despite sticking to Hermione's instructions this time, Draco thought he should do something more, _something nice_ , to appease his gnawing guilt.

Bringing her to see Captain Birch was a good choice. He felt apprehensive on stepping foot in Diagon Alley once more, the memory of Goatee and Crooked Teeth resurfacing in his mind. But then, looking at Rose's hopeful face, he knew that the choice was already made for him. Scowling darkly, he blamed feeling all soft towards the redhead on guilt, and guilt _alone_.

"Oh, all right," he grumbled. Rose squealed and happily jumped up and down. "But go finish your breakfast first and then Tippy will give you a bath."

"Yes, Draco," she happily chimed, grabbing her half-eaten French toast to start munching on it again. "Thank you, Draco!"

* * *

Rose was frowning when he walked out of his room.

"Why did you change your hair?" she blurted out of curiosity.

Draco colored, nervously running a hand through his hair, which was now a darker, dirtier shade of blond. "None of your business," he sneered. Rose stuck out her tongue in reply.

Going back to Diagon Alley made him apprehensive, knowing that people would instantly recognize him as the Malfoy Heir and give him weird stares once more. To at least calm his tumultuous mind, he decided to disguise himself a little. After all, the Malfoys were known for their whitish, blond hair. People might not give him a second glance if he concealed said hair. He refused to turn it into another color, not particularly liking that he would be horribly paler if he turned his hair black. Ginger was out of the question.

"Let's go!" the redhead impatiently said, grabbing onto his right wrist with both of her small hands.

"Not yet, we still have to wait for someone," he replied.

As if on cue, his fireplace roared emerald green and out came Theo. His best friend, who had the same idea as Draco, had made his hair jet-black this time, instead of the trademark brown hair of a Nott.

He narrowed his eyes as his best friend greeted him. "Did you charm your eyes blue?" Draco asked, highly amused. The shade almost rivalled Rose's.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Theo said, his cheeks slightly pink. “It went well with the black hair.”

Draco snorted. “Of course, you and your infamous vanity,” he cajoled, earning him a dark scowl from Theo.

"What's he doing here?" Rose whined, glaring at Theo's direction.

Said Nott directed his eyes on Rose instead and sweetly smiled. ”Why, I'm coming with you, Mini Granger," he replied.

The redhead pouted. "My name is Rose," she slowly said, emphasizing every word, hoping that Theo would get her this time. Draco doubted he would ditch the nickname any time soon when an amused smirk stretched onto his face. "Does he have to go, Draco?" she asked, pout still in place.

"Unfortunately yes," Draco sternly replied. "And unless you want to be left here while Theo and I go see Brevis Birch, you will be nice to Theo."

"He's not nice to me," she pointed out matter-of-factly.

"He promises to be nice, right Theo?" Draco asked through gritted teeth, shooting a warning glare at his best friend. " _Right_ , Theo?"

Theo had an amused look on his face. "Oh, I promise to be a perfect Hufflepuff, you'll instantly like me, Mini Granger," he promised, hand on his heart, and a wide smile on his face.

Rose still gave him a suspicious glare before finally nodding her head. "All right," she said. "Let's go."

* * *

"I don't know why you invited me in the first place," Theo whispered to Draco as they finally arrived in Diagon Alley. It was way more crowded than yesterday and Draco felt his panic welling up a little. "I don't like Tornados after all. I fucking _hate_ Birch; he's more action than strategy. You know how I feel about their loss last season. I mean, _come on_ , I get the Wronski Feint and all, but was it really necessary to knock the player off the broom?”

The blond shrugged. “He was a Gryffindor,” he plainly said. “What do you expect?”

“Exactly, he was a _Gryffindor_ ,” Theo said matter-of-factly. “This is why that I _love_ the Chudley Cannons. At least two-thirds of their team next season are Slytherins!”

Draco made a face upon the mention of the other Quidditch team. "Gudgeon was a wanker. And he's too slow! He could not catch a Snitch even if it’s right under his nose.” He ignored Theo's loud “No he's not", and continued. "Besides, I might fuck things up again and this time end up in Azkaban, and I quote, _'for murdering an innocent child'_. As he said this, a middle aged woman locked gaze with him. She gave him a suspicious look, prompting him to look away and hoped against hope that he was not recognized.

His best friend was silent for a while. "Oh I get _it_ ," Theo said, quirking up an eyebrow. "Drakie poo is scared of the stares and whispers and wanted awesome, brilliant, handsome Theo Nott to shield him from harm.”

"I'm not scared," the blond exclaimed too loudly, but his cheeks betrayed him. “Just… _nervous_.”

“Nervous, mmhmm,” Theo said. “Keep talking, mate. I’ll be all ears.”

"What are you two talking about?" Rose asked, speaking up for the first time. She was particularly looking at Theo as if she was accusing him of something.

"Just adult stuff, don’t mind us."

She continued to suspiciously look at them. Rose was then immediately distracted as screaming fans of Brevis Birch reached their ears. "Hurry, hurry!" she exclaimed, grabbing on both Theo and Draco's hands.

They were the last ones on the line and Rose was growing more and more impatient as time flew by.

The line consisted mainly of females, and Draco made a wild guess half of them were into Birch’s handsome face more than his Quidditch skills. There were a few male fans; some were already enthusiastically talking about Tornados and their stats. 

"How come you like Quidditch?" Theo asked Rose out of curiosity. He then directed his amused eyes at Draco. "I remember quite clearly Granger's terrified of flying. _This_ is why I still cannot believe how she willingly rode on a hippogriff in our third year.”

“Uncle Harry used to fly with me," Rose happily replied. “He also told me how much Papa likes Quidditch, like Rosie!” Draco lifted an eyebrow, realizing it was the first time Rose spoke of her father. He always wondered if she still remembered Ron Weasley, seeing that she was perhaps about three when her father died. “But he likes the Chudley Cannons." She made a disgusted face. "I don't like the Cannons. Gudgeon is slow! I like Tornados the best!"

"Exactly!" Draco exclaimed with a smirk the same time Theo replied an affronted "Hey!" "Even the menace knows good Quidditch."

"Yeah, yeah, team up, you two," Theo said, rolling his eyes, while Draco absentmindedly lifted Rose in his arms. "Next season, I think they recruited a new Keeper and a little bird told me he's one hell of a fighter. Tornados is going down, you just wait!"

"No they won't!" the redhead rejected. "Tornados are the best!"

"How can you say that?" his best friend retorted. He then proceeded to state all the stats and wins of his favorite team to the five-year-old, much to Draco's amusement. What was amusing more, however, was the fact that Rose was listening with rapt attention and stubbornly defended the Tornados.

Draco did not realize he was smiling until Theo pointed it out. "You look like a bloody idiot, you wanker," Theo whined, playfully shoving Draco to the side. "Just because a five-year-old is siding with you does not mean the Tornados are the best."

"I didn't know you like debating with children," Draco said, lifting an eyebrow. “Very… _mature_.”

"Fuck off," the disguised Note said with a glare.

"No bad words!" Rose cried, but Theo ignored her while Draco stifled a snicker.

They were nearing the front and Theo continued to defend his team. Soon, they were face-to-face with Brevis Birch. While Rose was loudly declaring her love for the Tornados, she immediately grew silent once they reached the front of the line.

"A young fan, how delightful," the Tutshill Tornados Captain commented, a slight Irish lilt in his voice. He had strong jaws, slightly crooked nose, and bushy, brown eyebrows. He looked mulish and brusque; his wide smile seemed out of place. "Do you have anything you want me to sign?"

Draco shot a look at the strangely silent redhead. Her cheeks were as red as her hair and she was sporting a shy smile on her face. "Come now, Rosie, don't be shy," Draco urged with a slightly teasing tone.

"Here, Captain Birch," she softly said, slowly showing his autobiography.

Birch smiled once more and signed the front cover. When he returned the book to Rose, he said, "I hope you'll root for me in the next season."

Rose looked at her signed book with shining eyes, then to the Quidditch player. "I will! I will!" she exclaimed in excitement. "Tornados are the best!"

"No th - ." Draco cut Theo off with a sharp jab from his pointy elbow.

“You have a lovely daughter, both of you,” the Captain, brilliant smile still in place.

Theo coughed noisily beside him whilst he turned into deep maroon. “Oh… I’m we’re not…” He gestured between him and Theo as he vigorously shook his head.

Birch’s eyes widened. “Right, I’m sorry,” he said, followed by a discomfited chuckle. “Anyway… umm…”

"Say goodbye to him now, Rose,” Draco urged hastily.

"Goodbye, Captain Birch!" she happily obliged.

Draco then steered them away from the line. Theo chose that moment to speak once more.

“I-I _can’t_ believe it!” his best friend bellowed, glaring at Draco as if it was his fault. “This is why I thought tagging along with another man with a child would raise some questions.” He made a face at the blond. “Not that I have anything against it, but _I’d_ never hit on you, eww. We’re like _brothers_.”

“Ugh, Nott, I get it and I don’t care,” Draco said, cheeks still tinged red. He then glared down at the still happy redhead. "Now, can we go home?” His mind was already conjuring his warm hearth and comfortable couch, and his body was aching to fulfil that imagination.

Rose was still looking at her book with awe, eyes too wide and bright. "No!" she cried. "I want to buy books, Draco, please please please. We’re in Flourish and Blotts already.”

Beside him, Theo snorted. "Why am I not surprised?!” he murmured under his breath. "Well, you heard Mini Granger, mate."

He really, really wanted to go home. But, Rose looked too happy and he did not want to be a spoilsport today. "Fine," he said with a defeated sigh. "But only for thirty minutes, then we'll get the hell out of here."

"Okay!"

* * *

They stayed for a whopping two hours and it was all Theo's fault. Draco had this inkling his best friend was merely riling him up, quite sore that the redhead was siding with Draco for loving the Tornados and not the Cannons. As if it was his fault the Tornados were the best, that bastard.

Draco also ended up purchasing a total of ten books for the child. Hermione left enough money for Rose's necessities, and that did not include books to read. Not that Draco was complaining and his Gringotts vault would suffer from the loss. Still, Draco was itching to go home and his feet were killing him already. Besides, Rose also chose some books without pictures and they were thick enough to be a textbook. Hermione would be so proud her daughter was taking after her.

If he wasn't tired, he would have been highly amused with Rose's enthusiasm with reading. Perhaps, she would stop reading the Daily Prophet now, which had news not fitting for a child.

_'Oh,'_ Draco thought, sudden realization dawning. Granger and Potter were famous in this Wizarding World. Perhaps, Rose was hoping that she would at least have a glimpse of her mother and Potter. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was going to read the newspaper tomorrow.

"Well, it was pleasant spending the day with both of you," Theo then announced once they arrived back in Draco's flat. "We should do this again." He then grinned at Rose and playfully ruffled her hair. "Perhaps I can finally convince you that the Chudley Cannons are the best, Mini Granger."

"No, Tornados!" Rose protested, prompting Theo to roll his eyes.

"All right, all right, geez," he said. Draco, however, could see how his best friend was fighting to suppress a small smile.

"Let's have a drink some time, Draco," he then said. "My treat, I'm sure you already have a handful." He meaningfully looked at Rose, prompting Draco to sigh.

Theo finally bid goodbye and left through the fireplace.

"Go wash up and change," Draco ordered. "I'll ask Tippy to clean this up for you."

Rose was looking at him strangely, it somehow made him uncomfortable. "What?" he asked a confused frown on his face.

To his utmost bewilderment, Rose threw her arms around Draco's leg and brightly grinned at him. He was too stunned to move. "Thank you for today, Draco!" she happily claimed. "I think you are nice now."

She then proceeded to run to her room, leaving a befuddled Draco behind.

* * *

Draco cursed, automatically grabbing his wand under his pillow to illuminate the whole room. Eyes wide, he looked around his bedroom, searching for anything sinister. All he saw was a sheepish Rose, dressed in her teddy bear pajamas. She was clutching Sir Ginger the Stuffed Dragon with her right hand, and a picture book with the other.

"Rose," he grumbled, glaring at the girl as he calmed his wildly beating heart.

"Sorry, Draco," she said, her little feet pattering quietly across his carpeted floor until she was beside his bed.

Draco mindlessly lifted her up and settled her down beside him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, followed by a wide yawn. A quick look at his bewitched clock stated it was only thirty minutes past midnight.

"I can't sleep," she said, snuggling against her toy. "Read me a story?" She then shoved the book, _'The Tales of Beedle the Bard’_ , into his hands.

Draco remembered Granger's twelfth instruction, stating that Rose loved bedtime stories, which would be handy on times when she had a nightmare and such. 

Frowning, he looked at the little girl and noted the beads of sweat on her forehead and the paleness of her cheek.  Her eyes were red and he noted that she had snot running down from her nose. “Rose," he said, conjuring a tissue out of thin air and cleaning her face. “Did you have a nightmare?"

She was determinedly not meeting his eyes. "No I didn't," she protested. “I just want a bedtime story.” She was stubborn and he decided to drop the subject.

"All right," he agreed with a deep sigh.

Rose gave him a weak smile, and then crawled towards him until she was snuggling at his side. She then gave him the book. Draco felt some semblance of nostalgia as he surveyed the book in his hands. He had also loved this book as a child, despite some of its themes. _‘The Warlock’s Hairy Heart’_ was quite dark and not suitable for a child, and it effectively scared the crap out of him when he was younger.

"All right, which one do you like?" he then asked, flipping through the pages.

“‘ _The Fountain of Fair Fortune’_ ," she sleepily replied. “Sir Ginger really likes that story."

Draco couldn't help but smirk, remembering how his late father went berserk and demanded Dumbledore to censor this particular story since it promoted the union of a witch and a muggle. "Good choice," he then said, leafing through the book until he reached the right page. He secretly liked this story, too, when he was younger and had begged Dobby to read it to him without telling Lucius.

The blond began reading and when he was already on the part of Altheda and the _'fruits of their labors'_ , he felt Rose heavily lean against him.

He looked at the redhead beside him and lightly smiled, noting that she was already fast asleep.

Draco debated whether to carry her back to her room or let her sleep on his bed. He knew from Tippy that the girl had nightmares often and Draco did not have the heart to disturb her when she looked too peaceful. Perhaps, this was her first peaceful sleep and he would have felt guilty if he had disrupted it.

Sighing heavily, he let her head rest on his pillow and tucked her under his duvet.

_'She really looks like Granger,'_ he thought, smiling as he recalled the times when he saw Hermione sleeping while he stood guard on one of their missions. Eyes widening and mouth dropping, Draco realized what he was thinking and immediately shook those thoughts away.

As he settled back down on his bed, his mind strayed on Hermione and wondered when she would be back. Strangely, though, he did not feel too eager to get rid of Rose anymore and merely wished that her mother was all right.


	5. The Malfoy Manor

As what he had predicted, Rose continued to read the Daily Prophet despite having bought new books.

“Cla… Clair… Clairvoy…”

“Clairvoyant,” Draco absentmindedly muttered.

“Clairvoyant,” Rose echoed. She repeated the word thrice until she was satisfied, a huge grin on her face. “What does that mean?”

He took a sip from his mug, this time filled with hot cocoa, before replying, “It means someone who can foretell the future.”

“You mean like a seer?” she asked.

A smirk grew on his face, impressed. “Yes, like a seer,” Draco said, nodding his head.

“Is Trelawney a clairvoyant?” Rose asked, grinning once more as she pronounced the word properly. “Mama said she predicted about Uncle Harry and Moldy Voldy’s fight.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “Moldy Voldy?”

“Uncle Harry calls him that,” she explained.

He snorted. _‘Figures,’_ he thought. “And yes, to answer your question, Trelawney’s a clairvoyant.”

Rose made a noise at the back of her throat and skimmed through the newspaper once more. Draco had long finished reading his own edition and found himself observing the redhead this time. She was carefully skimming through the pages, her eyes glued intently on the articles. He scowled, noting an article or two about Skeeter and her awful gossip about another war hero or a Death Eater. He had been one her favourite subjects, especially during his Wizengamot trial, and had penned awful things about him. Draco contemplated whether to forbid Rose from reading about those rubbish by Skeeter, but decided that he was too young to even understand anything she said. 

“Mama,” she whispered in a gasp, eyes widening on a small picture of the War Heroine with Harry Potter. He had read about the article, stating about Granger and Potter’s adventure in China. The author stated how they were still tracking down Rodolphus Lestrange.

The child then frowned and looked at Draco. “She’s still not coming back?” she feebly asked, trying her very best to hold her tears.

Draco sighed. “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head.

Rose softly sniffed, and the blond sighed once more. “She’ll be back soon,” he reassured immediately.

“I don’t think so,” she echoed, haphazardly wiping her tears away.

He had no answer to that, merely staring sadly at the child. Perhaps, it was a curse to be the daughter of two of the most renowned heroes in the Wizarding World. Rose Weasley would never live a normal life, he was sure of that. As a Malfoy, Draco had grown up under the scrutiny of the society and it had suffocated him. He could sympathize with the redhead.

“What are you going to do today?” he calmly asked, trying to distract her from her distress. “Will you have another tea party?”

She shook her head, her curls whipping against her wet cheeks. “Woody and SpongeBob are away,” she explained, pertaining to her toys. Draco wondered who they were. “They will be sad if we have the tea party without them.”

“Do you have any other plans?”

Rose pouted, silent for a while, before shaking her head.

“Do you like to go on a field trip?” he casually asked, neatly folding her newspaper and putting it aside.

Upon the mention of ‘field trip’, Rose perked up. “Field trip?” she asked, hope shining through her eyes. “Where are we going?”

“My house,” he explained. “I have someone to visit.”

The child looked confused. “But this is your house,” she pointed out.

Draco smirked. “Yes, yes, clever girl,” he said. “I meant my _childhood_ home.”

Rose looked thoughtful for a while. “Okay,” she finally replied.

“Okay,” he repeated. “Now, go to your room and be ready in twenty minutes.”

She obeyed and hopped down from her chair. As she walked away, Draco debated whether it was a good idea to bring Rose to the Malfoy Manor. The manor was not exactly child-friendly; as a child, he had been afraid of some of the suspicious artefacts scattered around his home. Also, it was impossibly huge and bringing an inquisitive child would be disastrous. He wouldn’t be surprised if Rose wound wander away and get lost in one of the multiple rooms in the Manor.

He really had to visit his mother today, though. Healer Matthews already spoke of her condition, and she was still unwell. He had not seen his mother for almost a month now and with a new child to take care of, he simply could not find the right time to visit. Tippy gave him daily reports on Narcissa’s condition, but he just had to see his mother.

He at first thought of leaving Rose in his flat while he went to the Malfoy Manor, but thought against it immediately. Tippy was away for an errand, and he did not trust the other House Elves to take care of the menace. Theo was also a candidate as her temporary babysitter, but did not consider him too long. Rose clearly disliked him and he doubted his best friend would be responsible enough to act like an adult in front of the child.

Hence, the only choice he had was to bring her to the Manor. He just hoped it wasn’t a bad idea at all.

* * *

“Now, be good and for Merlin’s sake, don’t wander about,” he warned, lifting Rose into his arms.

The child sweetly smiled. “I’ll be a good girl, Draco, I promise,” she happily replied, hand over her heart.

He still looked at her suspiciously, before nodding his head in satisfaction. She seemed happier now, as opposed to her dejected mood this breakfast and Draco took this as a good sign. _‘Or not,’_ he thought with a sneer. Since she was in a good mood, she was bound to wreak havoc in the Malfoy Manor.

Sighing, he side-along Apparated them both before he could change his mind.

Rose was a little green when they reappeared at the gates of Malfoy Manor. “You better not get sick all over me,” he warned, slightly disgusted, as he placed her back onto her feet.

“I hate apparating,” she bemoaned.

Draco looked across their vast lawn, or more fittingly a field really, and sighed. Bringing a non-Malfoy into the Manor meant he could not apparate directly inside. Changing the wards required a lot of spells and manipulation, and he thought it would be less taxing to just walk from the gates to the manor.

“Come on,” he said, ushering her forward.

Rose’s eyes were wide with wonder as she surveyed the huge field. He had seen the same expression on their numerous visitors, but there was something refreshing about seeing it on a child. Rose had marveled her mother’s rose garden, which were now tended to by the house elves due to the Mistress Malfoy’s current condition. Her eyes also sparkled as she looked at the ostentatious fountain at the middle of the field. Draco mentally noted to take her at night, if he could, at the fountain since fairies tended to flutter about.

His eyes widened, disbelieving that he thought of bringing the child into the manor in the _future_. He really was going all soft towards the child, it was ridiculous. Theo pointed out his parental instincts came naturally, _too naturally_ , and had mocked him unceasingly ever since. Draco was still adamantly in denial of the said instincts.

He snapped off his train of thought as Rose squealed and ran after the albino peacocks scattered about. They were terribly magnificent and extravagant; he thought the animals were a fitting symbol for the Malfoy family’s flamboyance and wealth.

“Rose,” he sternly said. The child frowned, quickly petted one of the peacocks, before running back beside him.

“What are those?” she asked, eyes shining brightly in curiosity and delight.

“Peacocks.”

“They’re pretty,” she dreamily said.

He remembered his comparison and wryly smiled. “Sure,” he thought. They could be real buggers when agitated, aggressively attacking those who had wronged them until they bled.

Just like the Malfoys.

They finally reached the front door and Draco was relieved. He cursed his ancestors for purchasing a vast land to build the manor. It was honestly a bother, and difficult to maintain. He wasn’t surprised they had at least ten house-elves maintaining the Manor, and an extra five just tending to his mother’s gardens and the lawn. Despite officially owning the Malfoy Manor, seeing that he was the legal Head of House, Draco was wary of living here for the rest of his life. The humble flat (well, as humble as a Malfoy’s flat could get) he purchased was a comfort, and had steadily been his home during his adult years.

“Master Draco,” the front doors opened, even before he knocked. The eldest Malfoy house-elf, Morty, greeted him with a deep bow. He then curiously looked at the redhead beside Draco. Rose beamed widely, waving her hand as greeting with utmost enthusiasm. Draco smirked at the dumbstruck look on the house-elf, seemingly at loss of what to do.

"Where is Mother?” he asked as Morty ushered them inside.

“In the East Wing Gardens, Master Draco,” he replied, grasping both Draco’s trench coat and Rose’s little sweater. “Perhaps some tea?”

Draco nodded.

“And for the Little Miss?”

Before Rose could reply, Draco said, “Pumpkin juice will suffice.”

Morty nodded his head and disappeared with a crack.

“I want hot cocoa with marshmallows on the top,” she whined, grasping onto his right sleeve.

“You had one during breakfast,” he said with a lighthearted glare. “Granger will kill me if she discovered I’ve been fueling you with sweets and junk food. Pumpkin juice is nice. I like pumpkin juice.”

She crossed her arms. “I don’t,” she said. “It tastes funny.”

“Yes, well, you have to train yourself into drinking one because there will be plenty of them once you start going to Hogwarts,” he said and started to walk towards the East Wing. “Besides, it’s healthy for a growing girl like you.”

Rose released an exaggerated sigh. “You sound like Mama,” she pointed out.

Draco looked down at her in horror. “No, I don’t!” he exclaimed, cheeks blushing. At the same time, he remembered Theo’s teasing and the fact that his parental instincts had been kicking in ever since Rose came into his life. _‘Damn it all,’_ he thought with an internal groan.

He was turning into a _fucking_ softie.

He brushed that thought aside and urged Rose to walk faster.

They soon reached the East Wing Gardens, and Draco found Narcissa almost immediately. His mother was seated on one of her favourite chairs, a black shawl wrapped around her frail shoulders, while she gazed off into the distance. A small lump formed in his throat, hating the emptiness in his mother’s glassy eyes. They used to have a fiery spark; one look from the Malfoy Matriarch commanded power and people obeyed whatever she said. Now, she was reduced to a weak, mute, and grieving woman who missed her husband too much.

The War had broken her mind and heart, as what Healer Matthews had said. Often, Narcissa did not even recognise him, and that was what he hated the most. His mother’s healer said that when Lucius died, it was when her mind completely snapped. It had broken her heart too much too, reducing her to this poor state.

Despite his father’s past misgivings, it was plain to see that his parents loved each other very much. Although not publicly affectionate, Draco had been a witness to their steadfast love even in the midst of war. He had hated his father during his sixth year, blaming him for his current condition. If Lucius had been successful in his mission in the Department of Mysteries, Draco suspected he would not have been a Death Eater at such a young age, with a task that was doomed to fail. Lord Voldemort merely favoured him when he was able to brilliantly fix the Vanishing Cabinets, only to betray him once more when Draco turned into an Order spy.

But then, despite his father’s failures, Draco knew he could not entirely hate Lucius. His father did love his family; a purely evil person could never love another. Lucius was misguided, just like he was during his younger years, and he could not entirely blame him for that.

“Mother,” Draco called. “I’m here.”

Narcissa continued to look into the horizon, not showing any hints that she heard him.

“Draco,” Rose said, tugging onto his robes. “What’s wrong with her?”

He tried to swallow the lump away as he looked down at the redhead. Instead of answering her question, he said, “Stay here and don’t go wandering about. I have some things to attend to. Morty will be here shortly and you can ask him to play with you or something. Tell him the Master Draco commands it.”

Rose pouted, but nodded nonetheless. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be a good girl.”

Unwittingly, a small smile grew on his face. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

* * *

He should have expected this. Still, he could not help but scowl and glare at the cowering house-elf.

“F-forgive Morty, Master Draco,” the house-elf said, head bent low, the tips of his ears touching the ground. “But the Little Miss is…”

"… a menace, I know,” the blond said. He then rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Would Master Draco like Morty to search for the Little Miss?” he asked, straightening himself up.

Draco thought about this offer for a while, before shaking his head. “Never mind,” he said. He then pulled out a parchment from his pocket and gave it to the house-elf. “Send this to Healer Matthews instead. I’ll look for Rose myself.”

“Yes, Master Draco,” Morty said, grasping the letter and leaving with a pop.

Once he was gone, Draco made sure that Narcissa was comfortable, before venturing around the Manor to search for the child. Throughout the journey, he cursed the Malfoy ancestors again for building such a vast house for a small family. Come to think of it, his family was made up of _three_ members, but the manor had enough rooms to house the whole Slytherin house. Perhaps, if the manor was smaller, then it would not be used as Voldemort’s hideout, that bastard.

“Where the bloody hell are you?” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the curious eyes of the Malfoy family portraits. His feet were already protesting from all the walking he had done for the day and Draco wanted to rest. Maybe bringing Rose to visit his mother was not a good idea after all.

He thought of going to the Malfoy library, knowing that having Granger’s blood in her, Rose would be drawn to the vast collection of books. But then, the library was at the far west side of the Manor; he doubted her tiny legs would bring her to that side.

“… Said that I should be a good girl so that she will bring home lots and lots of toys!”

“Hmm, then you must listen to your mother, child.” 

Draco’s eyes widened, recognizing the voice of Rose. What surprised him more, however, was hearing the voice of his own father. The blond broke into a brief jog, heart thudding wildly inside his ribcage. Rose’s hair was a dead giveaway and he was afraid of what his father would do, despite being a portrait and all.

“I am a good girl!” Rose protested as Draco finally arrived at the corridor where Lucius’ portrait was. The child was sitting in front of the portrait while she talked with his father. “Ask Draco! Do you know him? You have the same hair.”

“Oh Draco?” Lucius replied, eyeing the child with interest. “He is my son.”

The redhead squealed. “I knew it!” she exclaimed, pointing a finger at Lucius. “Draco looks like you. But he’s prettier. You’re old.”

The adult lifted an eyebrow, thoroughly amused. “Indeed, I am,” he said.

Draco decided it was time to cut in. “I told you to stay put,” Draco growled, announcing his presence.

Both of their eyes landed on the newcomer. Rose grew sheepish as she jumped onto her feet. “Morty is no fun,” she interjected with a pout. “He won’t play with me. He’s not like Tippy.”

He sighed and strode closer, lifting Rose up into his arms. “Still, you should have stayed put,” he reprimanded. “If you still have not noticed, my house is vast. A child like you can be lost.”

“No, I won’t,” Rose said, turning to look at Lucius with a large beam. “Lucius will help me. Right, Lucius?”

“Of course,” his father asked.

Rose directed her beam at Draco. “See?” she said.

Draco nervously cleared his throat. “Fine,” he quickly said, wanting to be away from his father’s portrait as soon as possible. He could already imagine slurs flung his way, cursing him for bringing a half-blood, much less a Weasley spawn. He realized that Rose was actually a perfect target for Pureblood bigotry. “Let’s go back now, shall we?”

He hesitantly looked at his father, who had been silent during the whole ordeal. “Father,” he greeted, tipping his head in respect.

“A Weasley, I presume,” Lucius smoothly said, as if he was talking about the weather and not a family of blood-traitors. Draco found himself holding his breath. “The color of her hair is a dead giveaway.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Whose?”

“Ronald Weasley.”

Lucius quirked an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Ah, the Dead Hero,” he simply said. Draco merely nodded his head. “And who is the mother?”

This was the question he was dreading the most. Weasleys, although unacceptable, were still Purebloods. Mentioning Rose’s mother would give Lucius a heart attack. _Well_ , if portraits could even experience such.

“Hermione Granger.”

Draco was determinedly refusing to meet his father’s eyes. The silence that followed was uncomfortable and Draco waited with bated breath for Lucius’ reply.

“Oh,” he heard his father say. “Brilliant girl. Smart.”

The son’s eyes widened in disbelief, he heard neither contempt nor disgust in his father’s voice. In fact, he could hardly believe it but he thought Lucius had complimented Hermione Granger, who was not only a mudblood but _the_ mudblood.

“Brightest witch of her age,” Draco replied, slowly looking back at Lucius’ portrait. His father’s expression was mild and tame, with no sneer nor glare seen on his face. He could not believe that he had not gone berserk over the fact that a half-blood, with mudblood and blood-traitor genes, had stepped foot in his ancestral home.

“Indeed, she was,” Lucius affirmed. “No wonder…” He looked at Rose with amusement and… fondness? “Clever girl,” he continued, pertaining to the child in his arms.

Draco was speechless, staring dumbly at his father.

In response, Lucius rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, she’s the daughter of a blood-traitor and a muggle-born, big surprise,” he said, smirking down at his dumbfounded son.

“You’re not… you’re not mad?” Draco asked, finally founding his voice.

“And why would I be?”

Draco snorted. “Oh, I don’t know,” he continued with dripping sarcasm. “Maybe because she’s the daughter of a _blood-traitor_ and a _mudblood_? You tell me, Father.”

Lucius gazed at him intently for ages, deep in thought. “I did not raise you to speak despicable language in front of a child,” he sternly said. All Draco did was scowl at his father.

His father’s gaze then softened. “You still think ill of your Father, Draco, yes?” It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement, really, and Draco once again was short for words.

The portrait version of his Father sighed. “I am dead, Draco,” he simply said. “I don’t think I should conform to such ridiculous beliefs when my soul is somewhere frolicking in the afterlife.”

Draco back-pedaled. “ _What_?”

Lucius sighed once more and looked at his son with amusement. “You should have known your father above all else, my son,” he lightly reprimanded. “And you should remember that I like to… _strategize_.” When Draco did not respond, he continued. “When the Dark Lord came into power, I believe that the most strategic thing to do is to become his follower. The power he promised…” A small, forlorn smile appeared on Lucius’ face. “Such power blinds Malfoy men, Draco. We covet for eternal glory and fame. It is such a shame that a boy had been Voldemort’s downfall.” His smile then turned into a frown, his high cheekbones colouring slightly. “I believe I had… _miscalculated_ and caused misfortune to the House of Malfoy instead.”

He could not believe anything that was spewing from his father’s mouth. Draco never had this kind of talk with Lucius when he was alive; _heck_ , he never really talked with Lucius at all. His father was busy with the Malfoy business _and_ the Voldemort business to really be a father to him. For Lucius to admit such things… he was surprised. And to think that Lucius never admitted he was wrong when he was still alive!

“Draco, I’m hungry,” Rose suddenly said, breaking the tensed silence that befell the corridor.

Both of the Malfoy men looked down at the pouting girl, oblivious of the topic of their conversation.

“Are you done talking to your father?” she asked, smiling at Lucius’ portrait.

Draco locked gazes with Lucius and felt a strange feeling in his heart. Ever since Lucius’ death, he had steered clear from this corridor, in fear of encountering his father’s portrait. He had so many things to ask… to _say_. He wanted to tell Lucius he blamed him for everything he had done. For ruining his life. He wanted to tell Lucius that Narcissa missed him every single day, that her heart could not handle that he was gone. He wanted to tell Lucius a lot of things, and he could not believe he never had the courage to talk to him for seven years.

“Yes,” Draco finally said. He looked back at Lucius’ portrait and started, “I… err… we must leave, Father.”

A weird expression clouded Lucius’ face as he stared at his son. “Of course,” he then replied, with a stiff nod.

“Goodbye, Lucius!” Rose happily chirped. “It was nice meeting you.”

Draco awkwardly nodded his head in goodbye, before turning around to stride away.

“Draco.”

The blond stopped dead in his tracks. He then turned around and questioningly looked at his father.

“Will you come visit?” Lucius asked apprehension on his face. “It is terribly lonely in my portrait.”

That weird feeling appeared in his heart once more. “I…” He swallowed a lump in his throat and shakily smiled. “Of course, Father.”

The older Malfoy beamed so wide, Draco could not help but stare. He had never seen such an expression on his father before.

“Can I come visit to?” Rose piped in.

Lucius smiled fondly at the redhead. “Of course,” he replied. “You can tell me all about your toys.”

“I can bring Sir Ginger too, so you can meet him!” she claimed excitedly. “Can I bring him, Draco? Please please please?”

"Yes, yes, you menace,” Draco said, lightly smiling. “But for now, I think I need to feed you so you can stop pestering me.”

Rose grinned, and then wildly waved her hand goodbye at Lucius once more. “Goodbye, Lucius. It was nice meeting you!”

“Likewise, Rose,” he said with a soft smile.

* * *

He walked back to the East Wing Gardens in a daze, still in disbelief that he just had that weird exchange with his father. Lucius was truly a man of mysteries, which was one thing he had admired ever since he was young.

“Your father is nice,” Rose commented, jumping down from his arms. She ventured closer to the platter of snacks, munching on a succulent treacle tart, and completely oblivious on the weird face he pulled due to her comment. “I like this field trip, Draco. Let’s do this again.”

Draco mused he needed some time to digest his conversation with his father before stepping foot in the Manor once more. He suspected that would take a long time, however.

He sighed and wordlessly strolled towards Narcissa, who was exactly where she was when he last saw her. The only indication that his mother was in fact alive were her soft, deep breaths.

“Mother,” he fondly said, placing a comforting hand on top of her wiry hair. Once upon a time, Narcissa Malfoy’s hair had been the object of admiration from all ladies in the Wizarding community. As a Black, she was quite unique, since she was the only one who had blond hair. Draco remembered them as silky and lovely, nostalgic remembrance of his younger days when he would play with his mother’s hair while she sneaked into his room to read him his favourite bedtime story. While his relationship with his father was cold and monotonous, Draco adored his mother too much. This was why his heart had ached with Narcissa’s illness, desperately spending a lot of money to find a cure.

“ _There isn’t a cure for a broken mind and heart,”_ Healer Matthews told him once. Draco had given him all the love he could, but he could not match his father, and that frustrated him.

“Master Draco.”

His eyes landed on Morty. “What is it?” he inquired.

“Healer Matthews arrived, Master Draco,” the house-elf said. “He wishes to speak with you.”

Draco nodded his head. “Take care of mother while I am gone,” he ordered. His gaze shifted on Rose, who was happily munching on a muffin now. “And please, for Merlin’s sake, look after Rose. You and I both know this manor is not for wandering children.”

Morty nervously looked at the child, but nodded nonetheless.

With one last look at his still silent mother, Draco strode out of the gardens and hoped that Healer Matthews’ arrival would bring good news.

* * *

Healer Matthews’s presence brought bad news.

_“Mistress Malfoy needs more careful attention,”_ he said. With her immunocompromised state, she was more susceptible to infections. Wizards and witches were known for their strong immune systems; unlike Muggles, they were practically impenetrable from the flu and common colds. But with Narcissa’s state, they should be extra careful. Apparently, once inflicted with a simple sickness such as the flu, magical beings had a stronger reaction against them than a normal Muggle.

_“If worse comes to worst, I believe it is best if she is confined in St. Mungo’s.”_

He had dreaded the healer’s parting words, knowing that if his mother was lucid enough, she would have made a fuss for being imprisoned in the hospital. Narcissa adored the Manor, and had spoken to him before how she wished to die in this place than anywhere else. If she was truly deteriorating, Draco did not want to deprive her from one of her wishes.

Such thoughts had plagued him until he arrived back in the East Wing Gardens. He was awfully tired and his body ached for some rest. He just needed to get Rose so he could apparate them both back home.

“… Look like one of my toys, Barbie.”

Draco’s eyes widened, stunned with the picture before his eyes. Rose was sitting on Narcissa’s lap, telling her stories about her toys and her books. Again, Rose had surprised him by actually bringing a _smile_ on his mother’s face. It was faint, but it was there. She wasn’t looking at a distance, too, and was instead looking down at Rose. Her empty eyes were filled with warmth, and Draco was at a loss.

“Wait here,” Rose happily said, jumping down from her lap. She then ran towards one of the rose bushes and carefully plucked a long one. Draco held his breath, waiting for his mother’s outburst. Narcissa loved her rose bushes the most. One time, she caught five-year-old Draco thrashing around her beloved bushes and had gone berserk.

But then, when Rose returned with the flower and climbed up on his mother’s lap once more, Narcissa did not say anything.

“Here,” the child then said, presenting the rose to the silent lady. “You’re pretty. So don’t be sad anymore.”

Draco felt a strange pang as Narcissa prettily smiled and accepted the gift. His eyes felt strangely warm, but he tried his best to ignore them as he strode forward.

Rose looked up and brightly smiled. “Draco!” she exclaimed, jumping down from Narcissa’s lap to greet him.

He wordlessly lifted her into his arms and merely stared at her. He had tried his very best to gauge at least some semblance of a smile from his mother, but had failed miserably for years. But then, this… this _child_ had just arrived today, but she was able to bring out a small smile from his mother.

Draco oddly felt choked up, and all he do was shakily smile at Rose.

“You okay, Draco?” she asked, pouting at the weird look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, chuckling in disbelief. “Gods.” He fondly patted Rose’s bushy hair; earning him a pretty smile from the child “We should get home. It’s been a long day.”

“Can we come back here?” she hopefully asked. “I really liked Lucius and Cissa, even if she doesn’t talk much.”

Draco did not hesitate in nodding. Perhaps, Rose’s presence in this bleak Manor would be good for his mother’s health.

He then strode towards Narcissa. “Goodbye, Mother,” he whispered. “We must go now.”

“Goodbye!” Rose happily exclaimed with an enthusiastic wave of her hand.

Before he could step away, he stood frozen in front when Narcissa finally looked at him straight in the eyes for the first time in years. “Draco,” she whispered, voice cracking from misuse. His eyes widened and looked at her quickly, surprised that she called him by his name. “Good bye.” The corner of her eyes crinkled with a small smile, and Draco swore his eyes felt hot once more.

Draco bent down to drop a kiss on her forehead.

Narcissa smiled, and then looked at the horizon again, lost in thought.

As they returned to his flat, Rose happily thanked him for their field trip and ran towards her room to play with her toys. Draco, on the other hand, walked in a daze to his study, and thought that this day was too bizarre. And it was all thanks to five-year-old Rose Weasley. 


	6. The Return

He was jerked awake, both by a crack of thunder and the banging of his bedroom door. Instead of brandishing out his wand, however, Draco buried his head beneath his pillows and groaned. “Rose,” he growled. “I told you to knock this out.”

Another week flew by with Rose Weasley in his flat and nothing extraordinary or disastrous had ever happened since they came back from the Malfoy Manor. Oh, the child was still a menace, but Draco found himself more amused than irate. He actually spent more time with Rose, even attending one of her ridiculous tea parties just to appease the redhead. Suffice to say it was an awkward experience, especially because Morty was invited and the house-elf had been a blubbering mess. Funnily enough, Tippy was brilliant at playing pretend and invited him back to her next tea party. Morty, unfortunately, wasn’t invited back.

Rose’s nightmares had increased, too, although she was adamant that she merely wanted to read bedtime stories with him. Draco did not push her about this, and merely humoured the redhead by reading her books aloud until she fell asleep on his bed.

She always had a habit of running to his room and bursting inside, which was why he stopped stupidly brandishing his wand around. It would be dangerous if he had hit Rose with a spell, when the child was defenseless.

“Go back to your room,” he murmured. Today was a bad day for him. He had just Portkeyed home from Switzerland, leaving Rose under the care of Tippy. He had always hated International Portkeys since they always made him nauseous for hours. He honestly liked International Floo more, but it wasn't exactly the most popular way of international travelling in Wizarding London yet.

Draco therefore decided to call it an early night and rest, thankful that Rose had already gone to bed. Apparently, she had other thoughts in mind and decided to bother him anyway. 

When another thunder rumbled in his room, Draco finally peeked out from his pillows and frowned. Rose would have bounced onto his bed right now, urging him to read her a story. There was still no bouncing done, and Draco was confused.

“Rose?” he called, now slowly grabbing his wand underneath his pillow and sitting up. Before he could illuminate his room, lightning briefly lit his whole room. Instead of the tiny child standing in front of his door, a woman was bent over his carpeted floor and bleeding all over.

“Holy shite,” he cursed, bounding out of his bed quickly. “ _Granger_?”

The visitor responded and slowly lifted her head. Draco locked eyes with Hermione’s honey coloured ones, prompting him to take a sharp intake of breath. Her expression was pained; she was bleeding on her forehead and her lips. Quickly scanning her body, he noted that she was particularly injured at her abdomen, and she was trying her best to put pressure on that body part to stop the bleeding.

“Ma-Malfoy,” she croaked. A soft shriek of pain escaped from her lips, and she bent over once more. Draco immediately ran towards her side and knelt down in front of her. Pushing her hands aside, he paled upon noting that the injury was particularly nasty than what he had originally thought.

Without any second thoughts, he immediately carried her onto his bed. He ripped off her ruined shirt to get a good look on her injury. The candles in his room illuminated instantly with a flick of his wand. Narrowing his eyes, he looked down at her injury and noted the black veins sprouting from it. It did not look like an ordinary wound.

“What happened?” he asked, swallowing a lump of panic.

Her heavily lidded eyes connected with him once more. “Lestrange,” she whispered, wincing in pain. “I… I don’t know what he did.”

He was not knowledgeable on any medical stuff, but Draco knew this one was a dark curse which required immediate attention. “Let’s bring you to St. Mungo’s -”

“No,” she interjected, grabbing onto his wrist with all the strength she could muster. Tears of pain and fear were now streaming from her dirtied face as she continued, “Rose.”

“She’s all right,” he assured, wordlessly healing her simpler wounds. “She’s asleep.” He tried a few healing spells he knew on her abdomen. Thankfully, the blood had ceased spilling, but the black veins were still present. He cleaned her dirtied state, and all that was left was a pale, frail, and shaking brunette and Draco did not know what to do. “Let’s go to St. Mungo’s,” he urged.

But Hermione stubbornly shook her head. “To-tomorrow,” she tearfully said. “I have to see my daughter first.”

Draco blew an irritated sigh. “ _Fine,_ ” he spat. “I’ll wake her up and—”

“N-no,” she cried, tightly grabbing onto his wrist. “She can’t see me like… this.”

“Then let me take you to St. Mungo’s!” he bellowed, scowling darkly at the shivering brunette. “If you bloody well die tonight, then I don’t think you’ll ever see her at all,” he snapped.

Fear flashed in her face and Draco stared down at her in horror. She _believed_ she was going to die, which was why she was refusing to go to St. Mungo’s in such a state without worrying her daughter at all. “ _Fuck_ , Granger,” he growled in panic. He decided to call for Healer Matthews for some help, and hoped against hope that the healer would immediately heed his call.

She hissed in pain once more, and Draco numbly ran to his kitchen. He grabbed a vial of pain potion and sleeping draught and ran to his bedroom once more as if his life depended on it. Hermione was violently shaking when he arrived, teeth loudly chattering in his eerily silent room.

He helped her drink the pain potion and the effect was instantaneous. Her pained expression disappeared, and all that was left was panic and fear. “You need to rest,” he instructed when she warily looked at the sleeping draught in his hands. “I won’t bring you to St. Mungo’s, I promise. But I’ll try to call for a Healer to immediately tend to you. Is that okay?”

She contemplated for a while, before weakly nodding her head.

“Drink this, then,” he said, gingerly offering the potion. Hermione grabbed the potion and drank it in three gulps. Soon, she was sleeping on his bed. She was too pale and her pulse was weak; it almost scared him to think that she looked dead.

With this thought in mind, he sharply called for Tippy. The house-elf appeared in an instant, while rubbing his right eye and releasing a wide yawn. “Master Draco called for Tippy?” he sleepily inquired.

“Call for Healer Matthews, quick,” he ordered sternly.

When the house-elf spotted the unconscious brunette on his bed, his eyes widened. Wordlessly, he disappeared with a crack. Draco was left alone in distress, praying to whoever who could hear him that Healer Matthews would arrive soon.

* * *

Draco had not slept a wink ever since Hermione arrived, worried stiff to at least rest his eyes. The injured brunette was still unconscious, and he checked on her once in a while to see if she was still alive and breathing. Her breaths turned ragged and the pain potion had worn off now. She made grimaces while asleep, soft moans of pain escaping from her lips now and then. The sleeping draught was powerful, however, and the pain was not enough to jerk her awake.

Healer Matthews arrived when the sun was already rising over the horizon. He was a distinguished man, with a proud brow and pointy nose. His steely, green eyes commanded respect and action. Draco had been wary about him from the start as his mother’s personal healer, but the respectable healer was the most competent in his field. Draco trusted him with his life and his mother’s and now, _Granger’s_.

“Forgive my lateness, I was in a conference,” he excused. He looked frazzled and weary, but the determined gaze in his eyes did not make him hesitate. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I’d rather you see it for yourself,” Draco grimly replied and ushered Healer Matthews into his room.

The healer was always stoic; whenever Draco went to him, injured from altercations of furious family members of victims he had killed or wounded, he never batted an eye and quickly healed them. However, as Draco watched Healer Matthews striding into his room and seeing an unconscious Hermione Granger, the healer’s eyes widened.

“Hermione Granger,” he simply said, turning to him. “I thought she is out of the country.”

“She _was_ ,” he corrected, gesturing weakly at her general vicinity. “She appeared out of nowhere in my flat, bleeding everywhere.” Such was his distraught, he forgot to clean the bloody pool Hermione had left on his carpet. _‘I’ll tend to that later,’_ he distractedly thought.

Healer Matthews made a sound at the back of his throat and pulled out his wand. He made intricate wand movements, and instantly, blue light engulfed Hermione. Her vital signs projected above her, and Draco paled, noticing that her pulse was too slow, her breathing too fast. The healer’s expression was not helping at all.

The healer immediately magicked her shirt away, fully exposing her injured abdomen. His frown had deepened as he examined the black veins sprouting from her wound. It started bleeding once more, and Draco had reverently tried to stop it to prevent her from bleeding to death.

“I had given her some blood replenishing potion an hour ago,” he informed him. “I also gave her some pain potion and sleeping draught immediately after she arrived.”

Healer Matthews did not answer, too busy checking the responsiveness of her pupils and her breathing patterns. He made another complicated wand movements, this time toward the wound on her abdomen. As black light appeared, his expression darkened.

“It is bad, isn’t it?” Draco gravely asked.

“Indeed,” the healer said with a firm nod. He frowned at Draco. “You should have brought her to St. Mungo’s immediately.”

“Did you think I never thought of that?” he snapped. When Healer Matthew’s merely lifted an eyebrow at the tone of his voice, Draco sighed and calmed himself down. “The bloody witch refused to be brought to St. Mungo’s last night. Which is why I called you, hoping you can do something about it.”

He was thoughtful for a while, and looked down at the injury on her abdomen once more. “This is a very dark curse,” the healer continued. Draco wasn’t surprised; he had thought as much. “And, all I can do is stabilize her and stop the spread. See those black veins?” He traced at some while Draco followed his fingers. “They are growing and once they reached her heart…”

He trailed off, grave, and Draco blanched.

“It is still best that Miss Granger is brought to St. Mungo’s,” Healer Matthews resolutely said. “Healers of Spell Damage would know what to do.”

Draco ran a frustrated hand through his hair and nodded.

He waited until Healer Matthews declared he had stabilized the brunette and stopped the spreading of the veins. The healer soon left, and Draco waited beside Hermione until she woke up.

* * *

Rose was already up for the day and Draco sighed, taking it as a cue to walk out of his bedroom. He had spent the remaining hours before breakfast contemplating on how to tell the child that her mother was here and severely injured. Until now, Draco was still at a loss.

He checked on Hermione, who was still unconscious, one last time, before finally striding out of his bedroom. He immediately strode into the dining table and found Rose, who was already happily munching on her French toast while reading the Daily Prophet.

“Good morning, Draco!” she brightly greeted, showing off her complete set of baby teeth.

Draco merely grunted and sat down on the chair opposite her. Tippy had prepared for him some muffins and sausages, with a steaming cup of hot cocoa. _‘Maybe I need coffee today,’_ he thought, making a face. His head already felt dull and woozy due to his international travel and lack of sleep. Dealing with Rose today would be so much worse, and he decided to just get this over and done with.

“Finwick left Tornados!” she gravely announced, pointing on the picture of the disgruntled ex-Quidditch member of the Tutshill Tornados. Occasionally, he would fall asleep and would immediately be awoken by one of the reporters. “Tornados have no Keeper for the next season.”

Draco wasn’t really surprised this happened. The Keeper was infamously known for his narcolepsy; Birch blamed him for their loss against the Ballycastle Bats after all. The only reason why they kept him was because he was actually a brilliant Keeper. _Well,_ if he managed to stay awake throughout the match.

“Captain Birch will find one, I’m sure,” he reassured, mentally preparing himself to break the news to the child.

“I like Finwick,” Rose said with a frown. “He has pretty hair.”

The blond sighed and determinedly looked at Rose. “Listen, kid -”

Rose gasped loudly, and pointed at another picture on the Daily Prophet. “Uncle Harry!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise.

Draco frowned and snatched the newspaper from her hands despite her protests. As what she had said, Harry Potter was standing in front of the reporters with a grim look on his face. His picture self would constantly shake his head, glare at the reporters, and then scowl. Then, the picture would loop and his expressions would repeat.

He gazed at the headline and read:

**Rogue Death Eater Caught in China**

_By: Phyllis Poppycock_

_It has been revealed two weeks prior that Rodolphus Lestrange was the killer of our beloved hero, Ronald Weasley, last three years ago. In light of this revelation, Mister Weasley’s widow, hailed War Heroine, Hermione Granger, and the famous Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, travelled to China in hopes of catching the rogue Death Eater._

_Sources state that Lestrange was already caught, but people speculate that Lestrange was not working alone and that Hermione Granger is missing. When asked, Potter refuses to answer any questions, merely stating that they got the situation under control. Until now, Miss Granger’s whereabouts are unknown, and it is believed that even The Boy-Who-Lived do not know where she is._

_Rodolphus Lestrange is famously known as the husband of the late Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, and had been part of Voldemort’s inner circle… (Cont’d in page 6)_

Draco felt a sick sense of relief with the news that Lestrange was caught. Rogue Death Eaters, the diehard ones, could still not accept that their Dark Lord was gone for good. As a former Death Eater, he heard stories, mostly from Theo, how a small group was planning to build a resistance against the current Ministry. _‘Which is plain stupid,’_ he thought with a disappointed sigh. The Light Side had gained steady power ever since Voldemort’s defeat. Most of the Death Eaters had either been thrown to Azkaban or dead. A small few had defected to the Light Side before the Final Battle. A handful was still lurking aimlessly about, and Draco suspected these were the people who wanted to form a resistance.

“Is the… is the news bad?” Rose softly asked, fear in her eyes. “You don’t look good, Draco.”

Instead of answering her question, he set the newspaper aside and stared directly into her ocean eyes. “Rose,” he started. The child sensed his urgency for she sat primly and looked solely at him. “I have something to tell you. So, listen carefully, okay?”

She slowly nodded her head in acknowledgement.

“Last night,” he started slowly, trying to rack his brain for the right words to say. “Your mother arrived.”

Her eyes widened like saucers. “Mama?” she gushed. “She’s here?”

“Yes, yes, she is,” he quickly said.

Rose was about to jump down from her seat and dash out to meet her mother, but Draco tightly latched onto her wrist with a warning look. “Before I let you see her, you have to be a good girl, okay?” he sternly said. Her eyes were already shining with tears of happiness, and Draco had to brush away the dread from his face so as not to worry the child. “She is sleeping now and she’s very, very sick. You can’t disturb her while she rests.”

“Mama’s not okay?” she softly asked, slowly pouting in worry.

Draco decided not to sugarcoat his words. “No, she isn’t,” he affirmed. “A healer already checked her and she’s okay for now. I think I have to bring her to St. Mungo’s soon.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, prompting him to sigh. “Do you promise to be a good girl?” he asked.

Rose daintily sniffed and wiped her tears away. “Y-yes, Draco,” she shakily replied.

Draco gave a satisfied nod and ushered Rose into his room.

He braced himself as he opened the door, and was surprised to see that Hermione was already awake. Her eyes instantly latched on his, her gaze tired and weary, but upon seeing that he brought Rose with him, tears gathered in her eyes.

“Rose,” she croaked. “Sweetheart.”

“Mama!” Rose sobbed, quickly climbing up onto Draco’s bed and wrapped her arms around her mother. “Mama, are you okay? Draco said you’re sick? You okay Mama? Are you hurt?”

Hermione chuckled at her inquisition and fondly swept away Rose’s curls away from her face. Draco noted that she still constantly grimaced and took a mental note of giving her another round of pain potion.

“Oh my love, I missed you,” the brunette tearfully declared, gathering her small child in her arms. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, Mama,” Rose replied. “You were gone for so long!”

Draco then slowly walked out of his room and closed the bedroom door, leaving the mother and daughter alone.

* * *

The Malfoy Heir sent an owl to Potter to tell him that Granger was staying in his flat, and was severely injured. Not even ten minutes had passed when his fireplace chimed and turned emerald.

“Malfoy, it’s me.”

Draco waved his hand and dropped the wards. Harry Potter instantly tumbled out of his fireplace in a messy heap, landing quite unceremoniously on the ground.

“Always graceful, Potter,” Draco greeted with a sneer.

His old school nemesis merely gave him a glare and straightened up. “Where’s Hermione?” he urgently asked, worry on his face.

“In my bedroom,” the blond said, waving his wand once more to bring up to the wards. “Resting. Rose is with her right now.”

Potter turned green and plopped down on one of the plush couches in his living room. He spied one of Rose’s toys, the square, yellow, sponge thing, peeking underneath Potter’s bottom, but the auror did not seem to notice. “She’s not doing any good, is she?” he fearfully asked.

He looked like he already knew what the answer to his question was, but Draco answered him nevertheless. “She has a nasty wound on her abdomen due to a dark curse,” the blond answered. “So yes, I think she is not doing any good.”

Harry heavily sighed and buried his face in his hands. “ _Fucking_ Lestrange,” he swore.

Draco silently watched as The-Boy-Who-Lived wearily removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent and his complexion was ashen. He also noticed various cuts on his faces, proof of a battle.

“What the hell happened?” Draco finally asked, unable to keep his curiosity anymore.

Potter was conflicted. He knew that he was thinking whether he should tell whatever happened in China. Thankfully, he decided to be truthful. “We caught Lestrange, which I think you already knew,” he said, gesturing at the latest edition of the Daily Prophet on the coffee table. “And, simply put, it was a messy capture.”

“I figured,” he said, scowling. Rodolphus might be demented, but he was a damn, good fighter. There was a reason why he was one of the few that had escaped the clutches of the Ministry for years.

“There were a few Death Eaters with him, but they escaped,” Harry continued, running a hand through his impossibly messy hair. “Lestrange was bloody strong, but Hermione managed to pin him down. I was… it was my entire fault.” He pulled his hair in frustration, much to Draco’s surprise. “I just… I left her there, alone with Ron’s _murderer_ , while I alerted the Ministry of his capture and I-I shouldn’t have.”

His voice cracked, and he hastily cleared his throat. Draco might be imagining things, but he thought Potter’s eyes were unnaturally shiny today.

“I heard Hermione scream and I instantly came inside, but I was too late.” Potter paused and took a deep intake of breath. “Lestrange sent a dark curse her way and she just…” He wearily ran a hand through his face, and Draco had to look away as some tears escaped from Potter’s eyes. “She disappeared and I thought I lost her, too.”

At the corner of his eyes, he saw Harry hastily wiping the wayward tears away. Draco gave him a moment to compose himself before turning his gaze back on Harry. “She’s all right.” He did not know why he was reassuring ruddy Potter, but it felt like it was the good thing to do. Besides, he was not the school bully anymore. “She’s resting in my room.”

“Bloody witch, making me worry like that,” Harry said with a wet chuckle. “I think she thought of Rose when Lestrange’s curse hit her, and accidentally apparated to your flat.”

It made sense, Draco thought, as he nodded his head in agreement.

“May I… may I see her?” Harry asked.

The blond wordlessly gestured at his bedroom door, and Harry did not need to be told twice. He immediately scrambled from the couch and jogged towards his bedroom. Draco, on the other hand, opted to stay in the living room and waited until Potter left for the day.

* * *

“You need to visit St. Mungo’s.”

It was not a request anymore, but an order, and Draco would be damned if Hermione continued to stubbornly refused.

Harry Potter had long left his flat. Rose was already asleep, snuggling against the brunette. Hermione was still wide awake and had been watching as Draco delivered a new batch of potions for her.

“I had a healer check up on you last night, and he strongly recommended for you to be brought to St. Mungo’s,” he continued, refusing to meet Hermione’s eyes. Looking at her made him feel strange; it did not settle with him, seeing Hermione weak and sickly. He had always believed she was brave, and strong, and too bloody good. Her condition right now had broken that perfect image of his.

“That bad, eh?” she rasped.

Draco sighed and finally met her eyes. There was an unreadable emotion in them, which he brushed off. “Yes,” he stiffly replied. “Thankfully, Healer Matthews arrived just in time to arrest the progression of the black veins to your heart.” If it were possible, Hermione paled more. “He owled me a while ago and stated he consulted with the Healers in the Spell Damage ward. Although deadly, the dark curse is easily treatable, but it would take a whole day for them to work on it.”

Hermione wordlessly nodded her head.

“I think it is best if I accompany you to St. Mungo’s tomorrow morning,” he offered. Potter had offered to come with Hermione, but he still had to deal with Lestrange’s paperwork and the media. Draco did not hesitate to volunteer accompanying her. Strangely, Potter did not protest and had even thanked him.

“But… Rose,” she said, frowning. “I don’t think she needs to be there tomorrow.”

“I agree,” he said, nodding his head. “I’ll think of someone who can look after her while we go. So, for now, you must rest.”

Hermione continued to look at him with an unreadable expression on her face. “I… well, I’ll move to a guest room so you can sleep in your bedroom tonight,” she offered, but he adamantly shook her head.

“Don’t bother,” he said with a stern glare. “You’re already settled here. I’ll sleep in my guest room tonight, so you really should get some sleep.”

Granger bit her bottom lip, her honey-colored eyes staring widely at the blond.

“I better get going,” he then said, flicking his wand to snuff out the candles. The room was instantly engulfed in darkness, but Draco could still see Hermione’s outline. “Goodnight, Granger.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

He was about to stride out of the room, but she called for his name once more, stopping him from his tracks.

“I…,” she started. In the dark room, Draco could not see her facial expressions. He could see her eyes, though, and they were twinkling brightly. “Thank you, Malfoy. For everything.”

He was thankful it was dark, for his face fully crumbled with the fear and worry he felt for her welfare. “Get some rest, Granger,” was his mere reply, and then he left the room.


	7. The Other Babysitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, look at that, I already have 100+ kudos for this story! Thank you all huhu

Draco did not like it, but he had no choice. “I think Theo can take care of Rose,” he declared once Hermione and Rose walked out of his bedroom. He had mulled over this decision for the whole night, mentally made some pros and cons, and concluded that the pros outweighed the cons even though the fight was quite close. 

As the child busied herself with her toast, the injured auror frowned at him. “As in Theo _Nott_?” she asked incredulously.

He quickly went to her aid and helped her sit down on the chair beside Rose. For breakfast, he asked Tippy to fix Hermione two pieces of pancakes with maple syrup and orange juice. Years of living with her in Grimmauld Place and other Order hideouts made him knowledgeable of insignificant things. From the way Hermione looked at him, he knew she was surprised he remembered.

Well, how could he not?

“Yes, Theo Nott,” he said, sitting on the chair opposite the small family.

She made a face. “He was… _quiet_ ,” she replied.

The blond snorted. “Trust me, Granger, he’s anything but _quiet_ ,” he said. They weren’t really friends during their Hogwarts years; they were mere acquaintances because of their fathers’ _affiliations_. Turned out Theodore Nott did not want the life of a Death Eater like his father did. If it weren’t for Nott, he wouldn’t have defected at all. He never really voiced it out loud, but he would always be eternally grateful Theo was the braver one and extended a hand.

“He’s a… a bully,” she lamely added.

Draco looked at her in amusement. “Yes, well, so am I,” he replied, gesturing at himself.

“I _trust_ you, Malfoy,” she retorted. “Not Nott. Besides, what if he’s a… bad influence to my daughter?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “He’s my friend,” he reasoned. “He defected, too, and had actually accompanied your precious Potter in some of his missions. He’s capable and he can take care of Rose.” His last sentence was uttered hesitantly, and Hermione caught it.

“Don’t you have other people you can leave her to?” she asked, clearly still not buying Theo’s capabilities as a competent babysitter.

“Potter’s away with the Lestrange case. Tippy is back in the Manor taking care of some stuff,” he recounted. “If you haven’t noticed right now, Granger, I am not exactly a very sociable person. I only have Nott as my acquaintance.”

“Well, what about your other house elves?” she asked with a glare. “I bet there are _tons_ in Malfoy Manor.”

He scowled at her sarcasm. “Trust me, Granger, you don’t want any of the Malfoy house-elves taking care of your daughter,” he interjected. Memories of strange playtime with the creatures during his youth resurfaced in his mind and he involuntarily shivered. “I only trust Tippy to take care of Rose, but as I’ve said, he is gone and that only leaves Theo. Besides, they get along _splendidly_ , don’t you, Rose?”

Upon the mention of her name, Rose looked up at Draco with a wide smile on her face. “Yep,” she exclaimed, licking on her maple-drenched fingers. Draco smirked; he highly doubted Rose had even understood a word of what they were talking about.

Hermione was still not convinced, but she finally sighed in defeat. “Fine,” she grumbled, her right hand gravitating to her injured abdomen. Grimacing, both in pain and disapproval, she continued, “As if I have any other choice.”

“Yes, you don’t. Unless you want me to bring her over to St. Mungo’s.” Upon seeing the look on Hermione’s face, the blond sighed. Draco then looked at his magical watch. “He’ll be here in an hour,” he said. “It is best you hurry up with your breakfast so I can bring you to St. Mungo’s already.”

“Are you going somewhere, Mama?” Rose asked, looking up at her mother.

Hermione slightly paled and refused to meet her daughter’s eyes. Draco, noting Hermione’s discomfort, spoke up, “We’ll be going to the hospital, Rose. I told you, your mother is very, very sick.”

“Can I come?” she inquired with a pleading look. “I promise to be a good girl.”

“Rose,” Draco sternly said. The child looked at him with a pout, as Draco continued, “It will be a busy day and you’ll only get bored.”

“I can bring Sir Ginger.”

He sighed and shook his head. “No, no, Sir Ginger the Stuffed Dragon will be terribly bored and he will get mad at you,” he explained. “Do you want him to get mad at you?”

“No!” she exclaimed, aghast. “He’s my best friend.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Draco said. “This is why you have to stay here and play with Sir Ginger and your other toys. Sounds good?”

Rose still pouted and fell silent, but finally nodded her head and went back to eating her toasts.

Satisfied, Draco looked back at Hermione, and then frowned. “What?” he asked. She was looking at him strangely, with a mixture of surprise and amusement and something else he could not place his finger upon. When she still did not reply and continued to look at him with that odd expression on her face, he repeated, “ _What_?”

A small smile spread on her face. “Nothing, Malfoy,” she said.

He still suspiciously looked at her, and then shifted his gaze on Rose. “Mini Granger,” he called. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at the nickname “Theo will come over and look after you, okay? So you have to be a good girl.”

“No, not him!” she whined, tugging on her curls in frustration. “I don’t like him. He’s not nice.”

Hermione sent an accusatory glare his way. “I thought you said they get along _splendidly_?” she interrogated.

Draco flashed his infamous Malfoy smirk. “Yes, well, I exaggerated.”

* * *

“Are you fucking insane?” Theo hollered as he stumbled out of the fireplace with a murderous look on his face. The expression fell on his face, however, as a stern Hermione Granger greeted him. “What the actual fuck? You are back!”

Hermione lifted an eyebrow and looked at Draco. “I get what you meant when you said he’s anything but _quiet_ ,” she coolly said.

“No bad words, Nott!” Rose scolded from beside Hermione.

The aforementioned man’s eyes widened as he looked at Draco, who was the only amused person in the room.

“My… my name is Theo,” he lamely retorted, throwing a withering glare towards the toddler.

“You call me ‘Mini Granger’,” she pointed out with a pout. “Draco calls you that, Nott.”

Horrified, Theo looked at his best friend. “How can you trust me with her?” he argued, pointing hysterically at Rose. “I can’t even commit with a woman, goddammit, Malfoy. How can you trust me with a _child_?”

“This isn’t a good idea,” Hermione murmured for the first time.

“Yes, thank you, exactly,” Theo exclaimed, this time pointing at Hermione.

“Will you please _shut up_?” Draco exploded, and Theo had the decency to obey his command.

After making sure that his best friend had finally calmed down, Draco gestured for him to sit on one of the couches in the living room. Theo opted to sit at the farthest couch from the mother and daughter and resolutely refused to look at their general direction.

“Look, mate, we have no choice,” the Malfoy heir finally explained. “I have to take Granger to St. Mungo’s and Tippy is in the Manor. The only person who can take care of Rose for today is you.”

Theo frowned. “St. Mungo’s?” He shot a look at Hermione, askance. “Why?”

As if on cue, Hermione grimaced in pain and tightly clutched her covered injury. The only thing that kept her from making any pained noises was the fact that Rose was beside her, and she didn’t want her to worry. A look of understanding dawned on Theo, and with a defeated look he looked at Draco.

“How bad was it?”

“Very,” Draco quickly replied, shooting a furtive glance at Rose. She wasn’t her normal self, constantly following her mother around. Although they never explicitly told her how badly her mother was injured, Rose knew that something was terribly wrong, and had been subdued ever since breakfast.

“Fuck,” Theo sighed, slumping against the plush couch. “Do I really have a choice?”

“No, Nott, you don’t.”

The brown-haired man released a huge sigh of defeat and warily glared at the blond. “You owe me, Draco, _big time_ ,” he warned.

“That’s settled then,” Draco said, secretly relieved that everything turned out better than expected. “You better get ready, Granger.”

Hermione nodded, her face expressionless, and strode towards his bedroom to gather her things. Rose, as predicted, followed her mother into the room.

Once they were gone, Theo grew thunderous once more.

“I’ll seriously fuck this up and Granger will kill me,” he spat, bordering hysterical. “You know what; I left my will with my house-elf. You are a bastard, everybody knows it Malfoy, but I left all my prized possessions into your care because you are the only _fucking_ person I care about.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” he retorted. “It’s just for a day. Besides” - he gestured at himself - “I managed to keep the child alive for two weeks. You and I both know I am more messed up between the two of us.”

“If you consider her near death due to peanut allergy as a job well done, then you really are messed up.”

“Be quiet,” he hissed, darting a look at his closed bedroom with panic in his eyes.

“So you’d rather I die first than you, eh?” Theo snarled. “Very mature Malfoy. I didn’t know you love me so.”

Draco released a monumental sigh. “Can you please quit your bloody sarcasms for a while and listen to me?” he snapped. Thankfully, Theo quietened down, but did not drop his glare. “I know this is a huge responsibility, Theo, but Granger really needs to visit St. Mungo’s. We cannot delay this until Tippy comes back. Healer Matthews doesn’t think it is a good idea.”

Theo slowly schooled his emotions until he was staring blankly at Draco. “She’s dying, isn’t she?” he gravely asked.

“She will be if I don’t bring her right now,” he growled. “It is _curable_. But it will at least take a day to remove that blasted curse off her.”

Nott fell into silence once more, seemingly deep in contemplation. Finally, he released a deep sigh of defeat. “I expect to get smashed in the Three Broomsticks tomorrow, Malfoy, and I’m not paying anything.”

Draco grateful grinned at Theo, who merely rolled his eyes at the ridiculous look on his face.

“I knew you’d one day ditch me for Granger, you wanker,” Theo said.

Color flooded Draco’s cheeks but before he was able to retort anything back, Hermione and Rose emerged out from their room.

“I’m ready,” the mother announced, right hand once again clutched against her injured abdomen. She threw a piercing stare at Theo, and Draco had to suppress a smirk when he saw his best friend squirm. “Take care of my daughter, Nott.”

“Of course, Granger, as you wish,” he said, followed by a mocking bow.

“If something happens, I blame _you_ ,” Hermione said, glaring at Draco this time.

Theo grinned widely. “Don’t worry, Granger,” he said. “I will blame him, too.”

* * *

People were staring, and Draco cursed for forgetting to darken the shade of his hair. They were staring _more_ this time because their beloved War Heroine was walking side-by-side with the notorious Ex-Death Eater. _‘Blast you, Granger,’_ he mentally cursed, and quickened his pace just to avoid their uncomfortable stares.

“Malfoy,” she called. “Slow down, for Merlin’s sake.”

He skidded into a halt and sheepishly looked behind. Hermione was pasty, beads of sweat now formed on her forehead. She was panting, too, and Draco felt a little guilty for thinking about his discomfort when the brunette he accompanied was bloody well strong enough to hold herself up despite her unimaginable pain.

“We’re almost there, Granger,” he reassured. The line for the lift was thankfully short and they were able to arrive in the fourth floor in no time. Healer Matthews, despite being mostly assigned on the third floor, had found the time to accompany them today.

“Healer Matthews,” he greeted.

The healer, a little wide-eyed, shook Hermione’s hand. He then frowned and peered at her pale complexion. “How are you holding up, Miss Granger?” he calmly asked, his steely eyes surveying her face. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how much pain do you feel now?”

“Err… eleven?” she squeaked.

Draco’s eyes widened in shock, “Blimey, Granger, you should have said something!” he exclaimed.

Hermione weakly smiled in reply, before her eyes rolled behind her head. The blond thankfully caught her on time before she fell on the floor.

Healer Matthews ushered him into a small room, where a team of healers were gathered around.

“Mister Malfoy, this is Healer Johnson,” he said, gesturing at the middle-aged man with graying hair. “He is the Head of this Department.”

“You need not worry,” the healer assured. The others, presumably his assistants, directed Draco to place Hermione on the empty bed at the middle of the room. “We have seen this case already and I assure you, the cure is 95% effective.”

Draco frowned. “Only 95%?” he asked.

A condescending look befell upon the healer’s face, prompting Draco to scowl. “Why, Mister Malfoy, not all cures are a hundred percent effective,” he drawled. “Perhaps, you can wait on the fifth floor? This will be an _awfully_ long procedure.”

The blond glared, but he knew he could not do anything.

“I will send someone to alert you if the procedure is done,” Healer Matthews said, placing a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder and at the same time throwing a warning glance towards his colleague.

Draco sighed and nodded his head, before striding out of the room.

* * *

“Where are we going?”

Theo sighed and glared at the inquisitive child. “Somewhere,” he replied snappily. “Come on, be quick.”

Rose pouted but obliged. She threw her tiny sweater over her head, and then wore her shoes. She was impossibly slow, and Theo was growing impatient.

“Come on,” he repeated, grabbing onto Rose’s hand. Without warning, he side-long apparated them both and arrived outside Leaky Cauldron. The girl was a little green, prompting him to sigh and tightly clutch her wrist.

“Where are we?” she asked after a few minutes. He noted that her nausea had thankfully abated, inquisitive eyes now staring around the unfamiliar buildings. He smirked when she flinched, a car honk blaring loudly mere meters away from them.

“Welcome to Muggle London,” Theo gesturing grandly around the busy street of Charing Cross Road.

Rose’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Why are we here?” she asked. Theo already started to walk around, and her tiny legs had to work double time just to catch up with the adult’s impossibly long legs.

“This trip was already scheduled ages ago,” he explained. “A child like you cannot ruin my plans, so I brought you here with me instead.”

When the child did not respond, Theo frowned and looked behind him. He saw Rose a few feet away, her eyes staring widely at one of the Muggle window shops. “Oh for Merlin’s sake,” he said, jogging towards the distracted child. “If you have not noticed yet, Mini Granger, we are surrounded by a bunch of Muggles. So I can’t use magic here when you get lost, do you understand?”

Rose pointed her stubby finger at the window instead of answering. Theo followed where she was pointing at, and saw some multiple black boxes with moving pictures inside. “It’s a telly,” she said, beaming up at Theo. “Mama lets me watch cartoons back at home. Draco doesn’t own one.”

Theo snorted. “What do you expect from that Pureblood snob?” he snapped. “Unlike me, I try to immerse myself in all things _Muggle_. Contrary to popular belief, they are actually a decent bunch.”

“Grandma and Grandpa are Muggles,” she said with a nod.

“Where are they now?”

Rose shrugged. “Mama said they’re having a vacation somewhere,” she explained. “Rosie never saw them.”

He then remembered Draco said that Granger’s parents were still somewhere in Australia, obliviated by their daughter to protect them from Voldemort and his minions. It was a sad thought, he mused, because even if Hermione Granger was a brilliant spellcaster, there was still no effective and safe way of reversing obliviation without damaging the mind.

“Let’s go now,” he then said, glancing at his bewitched wristwatch. “I’m already running late.”

Rose lifted her small arms and wriggled her fingers. “Up, up, Nott,” she demanded. “You’re too fast.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he glared darkly. “That might work with Draco, but not to me, Mini Granger.”

She pouted petulantly and crossed her arms against her chest. “I’ll tell Draco you were bad,” she threatened, prompting him to roll his eyes.

“As if that bastard can do anything to me,” he grumbled. Being best mates with a moody Draco Malfoy demanded he strengthened his defense. He could throw a mean spell if he was really pissed, and Theo had already learned his lesson and actually practiced some spells to spare himself.

“Then I’ll tell Mama you were bad!”

A frown slowly formed on his face. Although Draco was quite powerful, Hermione Granger was another thing entirely. He bloody well knew the Golden Trio would not have lasted without her brains and skills, which was saying something, seeing that the Gryffindor Idiots always found themselves facing unimaginable dangers. Besides, he remembered the state of Draco’s nose back in third year after a particular altercation with the brunette, and it was damn nasty. He did not want to take any chances.

Sighing in exasperation, he spat, “Fine.” Rose sweetly smiled, lifted her arms once more, and wriggled her fingers. Theo grunted as he pulled her up into his arms. “You sneaky menace. I think you’ll do well in Slytherin.”

“No, Gryffindor!” she exclaimed with utmost conviction. “Just like Mama and Papa and Uncle Harry.”

He rolled his eyes. “Figures,” he sighed.

“Where are we going?” she asked once more as Theo started to walk purposively in a particular direction.

He gave her a smirk.

“Why, Mini Granger, I have a date.” 

* * *

He regretted accompanying Granger the moment he stepped into the poor excuse of a tea shop in the fifth floor of St. Mungo’s. It was _horribly_ packed, and eyes instantly latched onto his form. Predictably, he mostly got hostile glares, with occasional fearful looks. Thankfully, there was a table crammed at the farthest right of the room with a huge, burly man occupying one of the seats. The occupant did not even spare him a glance, and Draco took that as a cue to choose that table instead.

Draco kept his head low until he reached his destination. He could not help but release a sigh of relief when he finally plopped down on one of the unoccupied chairs. Making a face, he realized the place was awfully drafty, which may be the reason why people did not choose that place in the first place. Having lived in the Slytherin dungeons for seven years made him immune to the cold and he did not bother magicking heat for himself.

“A girlfriend, I presume?”

He looked at Burly with barely concealed surprise. “Excuse me?” he asked. To be honest, he was more surprised the stranger was talking to him.

"The reason for your visit to St. Mungo’s,” Burly expounded, lazily drawing circles on the rim of his untouched teacup. “My wife’s about to give birth but the healers kicked me out, those bastards.”

Draco was awful with small talk, and could only offer a soft ‘Congratulations’ to his story.

“So a girlfriend?”

He stared once more. He thought the conversation had ended. 

“What?” the other, older wizard asked, lifting a bushy eyebrow.

“Err…” he started, cheeks flaring a little in embarrassment. “N-no, not a girlfriend. Just a… a _friend_.” He made a face at Granger’s role in his life. Although they had been through a lot during the Second Wizarding War, he highly doubted Hermione even considered him as one. An acquaintance, yes. An ally, surprisingly. But maybe a ‘friend’ was being too hopeful.

It was too late to take back his comment because Burly was now nodding his head. _‘I really should stop giving nicknames to strangers,’_ he thought, slightly amused of his strange habit. He recalled Crooked Teeth and Goatee and how they badly reacted with his nicknames.

“So, how’s the life of an ex-Death Eater?”

Draco choked on his own saliva in sheer surprise. His eyes had widened in pure horror, but Burly merely looked at him in mild amusement. “E-excuse me?”

“All right, I get it, you were an evil boy with a changed heart,” he continued with an eye roll. “The war is bloody well done now, innit? I’m honestly bored and I am genuinely curious. You look like a fine chap, anyway - definitely a Malfoy by that weird hair of yours - unless, of course, you decided to hex the living daylights off of me for being a privy idiot.”

All he could do was stare.

“So, how’s the life of an ex-Death Eater?” he repeated. There was no contempt in his eyes. Like what he had stated, he looked genuinely curious. Draco did not even feel the slightest bit offended.

“Err…” the blond started, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tough.”

Burly nodded in understanding. “I bet.” He gestured widely around the cramped teashop. “If people look at me like that every day, I would have locked myself in my house and live like a king using my ancestor’s riches.”

Draco glared, and he sheepishly added, “No offense.” Not that he was wrong, really. In fact, what he said was perfectly spot-on and he hated himself for that. Well, that was before Granger and Rose happened. He now found himself out in the open most of the time and had wondered how he was still alive at all.

“War makes people selfish,” the stranger continued, now pensively looking at his teacup. “It brings the most inhumane traits out of anyone.” He sighed, and then shifted his eyes on Draco. “It must have been tough to be a Pureblood, eh?”

Usually, he would have scoffed at the ridiculous insinuation. Usually, he would have given this good-for-nothing, nosy stranger a piece of his mind. Usually, he would have thoroughly debated how Purebloods were the master race - the best among the rest. But Draco _Pureblood_ Malfoy had gone through a lot, seen a lot, and had come to realize that being brought up to become a Pureblood Supremacist was not a privilege at all.

“Yes.”

He quietly looked at the tabletop, trying to block away the whispers around him. _‘Look at me now,’_ he thought with a sneer. Once upon a time, he was a proud boy who strutted around like he owned everything. But now… _now_ he realized he had done a lot of fucked up things in the past and he could not even do anything to make up for them.

At twenty-five years, he firmly believed he was a failure at life. The only thing he could thank for surviving this cruel, cruel world was his ability to mask his emotions… to not show any signs of fear, embarrassment - _guilt_. It was damn easier to just accept their accusations than defend himself.

' _A failure at life, you arsehole,’_ he repeated.

Burly then released an awkward laugh. “Blimey, sorry,” he then said with a sheepish grin once more. “Martha always says I talk before I think, so never mind what I said, lad.” He then proceeded to look at his wristwatch and swore. “I’m having my first baby and I am bloody dawdling around.”

He then stood up and bid a brief farewell.

“Wait!”

The stranger looked at him questioningly.

Slowly, the blond offered his head. “The name’s Draco Malfoy,” he casually said, schooling his emotions. Inside, his heart thudded in fear, embarrassment, and annoyance. This was a spur-of-a-moment. But then, noting the name of a stranger that had been impossibly frank and comforting at the same time earned him a spot in Draco’s book.

“I know,” Burly simply said with a smile. “You’re awfully famous.”

Draco frowned, prompting the other man to laugh. He then tightly grasped Draco’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Thomas Davies, mate.”

The blond gave him one of his rarest smiles.

“Pleasure,” he said.

Well now, Thomas Davies seemed more fitting for this man than Burly.

* * *

He was tired of witches. _Or_ , more accurately, he was tired of greedy Pureblood bitches that merely put up with him because of the Nott fortune. Most of them were raised as prim and proper princesses, heads filled with Pureblood aristocracy, the latest fashion trend, and the juiciest gossip in the Wizarding World.

Half-bloods and Muggle-borns, although tamer than the aforementioned Purebloods, were either too starry-eyed with the Nott fortune. Or, generally terrified with the Nott name, really.

Theo Nott was at his prime. He bloody well knew he was a blasted womanizer; _hell_ , he worked tooth and nail to earn that title. He used to be a quiet boy, refusing to get too close with the other Slytherins in fear that they might discover he did not believe in any of the Pureblood trash and Voldemort’s tyranny. Defecting with Draco Malfoy was the best decision he had ever made, and since then he was a changed man.

There were too many fishes in the sea, too many flavours to try. Which was why it was troubling he was getting tired of the usual magical witches throwing themselves at his feet. He was a persistent guy after all. Much better, he was a _Slytherin_.

Hence, he thought, that the only logical solution to his predicament was to broaden his… _choices_.

Unlike stuck-up Pureblood bad boys ( _ahem,_ Draco), Theo had ventured into the Muggle world multiple times with an open mind and starry eyes. As the Head of the Nott Household and the official President of the Nott business, he was required to interact with numerous Muggles, most of which had no idea he was actually a wizard. He traveled all over the world, met wonderful Muggle women along the way, and thought it wouldn’t be _that_ bad to produce Half-Blood Nott’s in the future, his ancestors be damned.

Like his womanizing habit, he too worked hard on proving to the world he was not some Pureblood Supremacist. Draco had been working extra hard, what with his notorious last name and his past misgivings, which was why the world treated Theo far better than his best friend. Still, there were occasional slurs and glares thrown his way. Not that he couldn’t handle them, those bastards.

“Are we there yet?” Rose suddenly piped in, bringing his mind back into the present. “I’m hungry.”

“Of course,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You are the Weasel’s spawn after all.” He could recall images of a ravenous Ronald Weasley during mealtimes in the Great Hall and had always wondered if their family was so poor, he had to eat as much as he could to have enough stored for the holidays.

They finally arrived in some fancy French restaurant somewhere at the heart of Muggle London. The matron gave him a slight nod and a knowing smirk; the said restaurant was Theo’s go-to place when meeting new Muggle ladies. He was such a delightful customer that the manager of the restaurant had given him discounts and free desserts.

He ventured towards the farthest booth in the restaurant, away from prying eyes. It was to his advantage, recalling days of disastrous encounters with a new date and an ex, and it would do him some good if he met the ladies in private.

Thankfully, his date had not yet arrived. Theo slid inside, placing Rose beside him. Glancing at the child, he wondered if it was a good idea to bring the tot after all. He could have left her to the care of his personal house elf, Snooty, but figured Draco would have his head if he found out. But then again, he’d have his head too if he found out he brought Granger’s daughter on a date.

Sighing, he looked at his watch and guessed his date would arrive soon.

“ _Oh_. Hello.”

Theo’s eyes widened. He _knew_ that voice. “Lo-Lovegood?” he gasped, glancing at the newcomer. He expected her eccentric fashion to transcend time and was surprised to see that she was wearing a flattering, red, knee-length dress and strappy, black shoes. The only thing that was purely Loony Lovegood was that ridiculous radish earrings of hers. Her eyes were still unnaturally glassy and wide, as if knowing all the secrets in the world. Her blonde hair was pinned elegantly atop her head, showing off her milky white neck and… _‘Holy shite_ ,’ Nott thought.

Luna Lovegood was bloody hell pretty.

This was bad.

Her lips turned down a little. “I’m assuming you are Ted Knight,” she said, slowly raising an eyebrow at his pseudonym.

Theo blushed and lightly glared. “Yeah, well, wouldn’t want to give the Wizarding World a heart-attack when they get wind with the news that Theodore Nott is having dates in Muggle London,” he snapped back. “And, _Selena Hartness_ , look who’s talking.”

Lovegood shrugged and slid down on the booth opposite him. “I like the name ‘Selena’,” she said, a small, dreamy smile growing on her face. “I thought of giving myself the name ‘Heartnice’” - Theo loudly snorted - “but it sounded funny and I thought ‘Hartness’ sounded nicer and more Muggle.”

“Well, that is a first,” he sneered. “ _Loony_ Lovegood thought something sounds ‘funny’.”

The witch merely raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a long time since I heard that nickname,” she confessed, an unreadable expression on her face. “It brings back… _memories_.”

Theo felt a stab of guilt and quickly looked away from her face. He used to be one of those who called her as such. She was one hell of a weird girl and they were insensitive gits. Perhaps, their name-calling had really hurt her despite showing a usually blank, dreamy look.

“I like your earrings.”

The tension was quickly broken as Rose spoke up for the first time. Theo slowly glanced back at Luna, who was now smiling prettily at the redhead.

“Thank you,” the older of the two replied, fondly touching her right, radish earring. “I like them, too. I made them myself.”

Rose’s eyes widened in surprise, “Really?” she gasped. “Can I have one too?”

Lovegood chuckled. “Of course,” she answered, smile widening when Rose squealed in delight. She then questioningly looked at Nott. “Yours?” she asked, jutting her chin towards the child.

Theo made a face. “Thank Merlin, no,” he said with a huge sigh. “Loo… err _Selena_ , meet Rose Weasley” - the child wildly shook her hand in the air - “Rose, meet Selena.”

“Oh,” the blonde merely said a spark of recognition in her eyes. “Hermione’s.”

"Yes,” Nott said, nodding his head.

Luna cocked her head at the side, blue eyes silently surveying the child. “She looks a lot like Hermione,” she pointed out. “But she has Ron’s hair color and eyes.” A small, sad smile appeared on her face. Theo knew she was close friends with the Golden Trio and wondered what had happened to Luna Lovegood after the War. Come to think of it, he never heard anything from her at all.

“You have abundant wrackspurts around your pretty hair, Rose,” Luna airily said, reaching forward to touch one of the child’s red curls. “What saddens you?”

Theo rolled his eyes. Apparently, Lovegood’s made up creatures never left her vocabulary. But then again, she wouldn’t be Luna Lovegood if she stopped believing in wrackspurts and nargles and whatever mumbo-jumbo she believed in.

“You see wrackspurts?” Rose gasped, wildly waving her hand around to dispel the invisible, made-up creatures.

Luna smiled. “You usually need spectrespecs to see one,” she replied, eyes twinkling in delight at Rose’s genuine curiosity. “But I’ve trained myself for years to see them without one.”

“Wow,” Rose gasped. “Mama said they don’t really exist, but I don’t believe that!” She continued to wave her hand around, even occasionally hitting the disgruntled Nott. “Sir Ginger always kept the wrackspurts away but… but…” She suddenly became downcast and stopped her thrashing. “I’m worried about Mama. Maybe that’s why I have wrackspurts.”

Luna questioningly looked at Theo, who sighed and lightly patted the sniffing child behind her back. “Granger’s in St. Mungo’s because of a pretty nasty curse,” he started. Luna’s eyes widened, the usual twinkle in them gone. “It’s treatable,” he quickly said, having this weird urge to reassure her, “but it will take hours.”

Sadness once again clouded her features. “It’s been… years since I saw any of them,” she finally confessed after minutes of silence.

“You’ve been living in the Muggle World,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Luna pursed her lips, and then slowly nodded her head.

“Why’d you leave?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

She was silent for ages, and Theo silently berated his blabbering mouth. And then, Luna sadly smiled and stared straight into his eyes. “Maybe the same reason why you always run away into the Muggle World, Theodore Nott.”

His gaze hardened, not knowing how to take her words in. He tried to rack his brain for some reply, to perhaps embarrassingly confess that the Wizarding World was fucking stifling and anything Muggle comforted him, but one waiter already came in to take their orders.

Throughout the whole ordeal (Theo refused to acknowledge this was a _date_ , now that he knew it was with _Loony_ Lovegood), they managed to exchange light conversation. Rose would occasional butt in, recounting her tea parties with her toys and her adventures with Draco Malfoy (which had genuinely surprised Luna). Theo and Luna did not touch on the unspoken curiosities once more - why Luna was living in the Muggle world and why Theo kept on coming back here. Dinner was surprisingly pleasant, and Theo couldn’t quell the disappointment when they finally finished their desserts and Luna announced she must go.

“Thank you for the dinner, Ted Knight,” she said, complete with that pretty smile and her pretty big eyes and her ridiculous radish earrings. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Selena Heartnice,” he said with a smirk.

Instead of getting offended, Luna merely raised an eyebrow. “It’s Hartness,” she said.

“Heartnice sounds… _nice_.” His smirk turned into a full-blown smile and had to stop himself from staring when she, too, smiled widely.

“It sounds ridiculous,” she said, followed by a - _blast it all_ \- pretty laugh.

She then looked at Rose, fondness in her eyes. Luna proceeded to remove her radish earrings and hooked them through Rose’s ears, much to the surprise of the redhead. “Never stop believing, young Rose,” were her parting words, before she walked out of the restaurant.

This time, Theo allowed himself to stare just a little too long.

“I like her,” Rose announced, cradling her new set of earrings in awe. “She’s nice and pretty and she can see wrackspurts, Nott!”

Theodore Nott had to bite his lips to stop from actually saying that today wasn’t so bad at all even though it was a… _meal_ with Luna Lovegood.

* * *

“You brought her to one of your bloody dates?!” Draco thundered when he finally brought Hermione home after her exhausting treatment. Said brunette was already resting in one of the guest rooms with her daughter abandoning her usual room and choosing to sleep beside her mother.

“Nothing happened, Malfoy,” Theo said, making a show of rolling his eyes. “We just ate. Mini Granger continued being a menace.” When Draco continued to glower, he sighed. “Look, the child actually had a good time. I fed her good food and I brought her back _alive_. Aren’t you going to thank me I managed to distract her from her mother’s current condition, you ungrateful bastard?”

Draco deflated a little and crossed his arms. “I can’t believe you brought her in one of your escapades, Nott,” he grumbled still.

Theo grinned widely. “Well, it was a wonderful dinner, so there was no harm done.” A dreamy smile appeared on his best friend’s face, prompting him to raise a blond eyebrow.

“A wonderful dinner with Lovegood, I assume?” He had to stop himself from smirking when Theo looked genuinely flabbergasted.

“How in the hell -”

“When you went home with Rose wearing those ridiculous earrings, I hazarded a guess,” Draco said, smirking triumphantly when Theo blushed and scowled. “I mean, who even wears _radishes_ as earrings?”

“Lovegood,” Theo said in defense.

His smirk turned knowing. “So it was _that_ wonderful, eh?” the blond teased, wondering if Theo finally found someone who would tie him down.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Hey, come to think of it, I never heard from her after the War,” he continued.

Theo sighed. “Apparently, she had been living in the Muggle World ever since,” he said, an unreadable expression on his face. “I’m… not sure why, though.” He was silent for ages, before finally shaking his head. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Mini Granger was a bloody _menace_.”

“Tell me about it,” Draco said with a scowl.

As Nott grabbed a pinch of floo powder, he turned his head back. “I expect to get smashed tomorrow, Draco!” he reminded, before shouting his address, and vanishing in a flurry of emerald smoke.


	8. The Extended Stay

“Good morning, Malfoy.”

“Draco! Good morning!”

The blond peeked above the latest edition of the Daily Prophet to return their greetings with a nod of his head. Hermione offered him a weak smile when Rose claimed the seat beside him. Her mother had no choice but to sit on the chair directly opposite Draco.

Tippy instantly popped in. With a snap of his fingers, Granger’s and Rose’s usual breakfasts appeared in front of them. Hermione profusely thanked the house-elf, much to Tippy’s embarrassment, and had not let the creature go until she incessantly told him he was doing a job well done. Suppressing a smirk, Draco thought she had not changed one bit.

Hermione looked loads better now. She would occasionally grimace, hands gravitating down to her abdomen, but the healers assured them it was merely a side effect of the curse and would wear off in about a day or two. She would be weak for at least two or three more weeks, and had not given her permission to go back to work, much to her chagrin. Potter was already owled to tell him the news, but The-Boy-Who-Lived unfortunately ( _fortunately_ , really), was unable to drop by to his flat to check up on his best friend. Lestrange’s case was still in the works and Draco could not understand why they wouldn’t just bloody throw him to Azkaban.

 _“The other rogue Death Eaters escaped,”_ Potter explained. _“We needed Lestrange for information.”_

He sneered, recalling that particular conversation. He knew his uncle well enough to know that he wouldn’t crack, even under the most painful and _legal_ spell ever invented. Veritaserum wouldn’t work on him, too; after the whole Barty Crouch Jr. fiasco, Voldemort had developed some kind of potion that granted immunity from the Truth Serum to the Death Eaters in his inner circle. Keeping him free for a really long time for information was futile and _dangerous_. But Potter wouldn’t hear the end of it and proceeded to be a bloody hero and squeeze whatever information they might get from Lestrange.

“Do you like my pretty earrings, Draco?”

His mind snapped back into the present when Rose’s voice invaded his thoughts. Blinking rapidly to shake the dark thoughts away, his mercurial eyes landed on the proud child who was fondly cradling her earrings with her tiny hands. Hermione was torn between looking amused and curious.

“It looks ridiculous,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“No, it’s _pretty_ ,” she interjected with a huff.

A small smile slipped on his face and he shook his head. “I don’t know why you even bother asking me, you menace,” he said, void of any malicious tone.

When he shifted his eyes to look at Hermione, he lifted an eyebrow. She was looking at him with that weird expression on her face once more, prompting his smile to falter into a frown. “What?” he demanded, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

To his surprise, Hermione merely smiled and shook her head.

“Mama, do you like my new earrings?” Rose asked, this time directing her question at her mother.

Draco expectantly looked at Granger, even having the audacity to lift a challenging eyebrow. He knew how Granger always thought Loony Lovegood’s fashion sense was eccentric and sometimes bordering… _atrociousness._ The radish earrings were definitely classified on the latter category and wondered how Granger would answer.

“It is… _unique_ ,” she finally lamely said. Draco snorted, earning him a glare from the bushy-haired brunette. She then touched one of the earrings, a wistful smile on her face. “It reminds me of someone I used to know.”

“It’s pretty, yes?” Rose said, eyes alight with happiness. “The lady Nott met yesterday gave me these, Mama. I really like them!”

Draco’s heart plummeted to the ground when a stony expression came over Hermione’s face. Internally, he cursed his best friend for once again stupidly bringing a child to one of his ridiculous escapades. He took a mental note of sending him a bloody howler to give him a piece of his mind (and maybe Granger’s), that bastard.

“What does she mean, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, deceptively calm but her eyes were saying an entirely different thing. He swore static was coming off her even bushier hair, and couldn’t help but to gulp down the nervousness and face her head-on like the true Slytherin he was.

“She _means_ ,” he started, coolly staring her straight in the eyes, “she and Nott met a _nice_ lady, who then gave her earrings to your daughter.”

He was awfully evasive, a tad sarcastic perhaps, but from the way a vein popped on Granger’s forehead, he knew she figured it out anyway.

“That slimy, good-for-nothing –“ She instantly paused when Rose curiously looked up at her. This time, Draco did not bother hiding his smirk and pointedly ignored the death glares she sent his way. Really, how could Granger have enough energy when she just got better from the dark curse?

“The most important thing is your daughter had fun yesterday. Right, Rosie?” he asked, his smirk morphing into a bright smile as he shifted his gaze to the young girl.

“Yep!” she said, face immediately brightening. “We had yummy food and… and Selena is really nice.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow. It was clear from Theo’s reaction yesterday that he met Luna Lovegood last night. Why was she using a different name?

“I think Nott and Selena will see each other again, Draco.”

That was a surprise. His best friend usually only brought a girl to one date before gallivanting around in search of another fair maiden. He wondered how Theo’s date with Luna Lovegood ended because she was most definitely not Theo’s type.

Hermione was looking at him weirdly once more, prompting him to sigh. “If you really have anything to say, Granger, say it now,” he snapped, glaring lightly.

The brunette regarded him with curious eyes for a while, before finally sighing and shaking her head. “You’re… weird, Malfoy,” she finally said, cheeks lightly blushing, with embarrassment, perhaps.

“What does that even mean?” he demanded. Draco Malfoy was a man of many things but he was most definitely not weird. Luna Lovegood _is_ weird. But not him.

Instead of answering, she merely smiled and proceeded to finish her breakfast. He knew he should be relieved she completely dropped the issue that Theo brought a child to one of his dates, but  _still_. He could not put a finger to her strange looks every time she looked at him.

Sighing, he momentarily dismissed those thoughts away and peacefully ate his breakfast.

* * *

“I’m bringing Rose home.”

Hermione carefully watched for any emotion from the blond but was disappointed when he merely schooled his emotions.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Granger,” Malfoy finally said after a few moments of silence. He looked up from one of the desks in his small library to catch her gaze. “The healers said you will need weeks to recuperate. Since you were once a strong advocate of house-elf rights with that ridiculous spew of yours, I doubt you own any house-elves to help you take care of the child.”

“It’s S.P.E.W.,” she snottily corrected, lifting her chin as an added effect. The way his lips quirked into a smirk did not escape her notice. “And… _well_ …” She had no answer to her current predicament. Usually, she left Rose in the care of Mrs. Figgs, a squib that used to be Harry’s neighbor, but she was out of the country for an indefinite period of time to take care of her ailing mother. Hermione was short of help and doubted she could find anyone she could trust soon.

A thought suddenly came into mind and she dreaded his response. It was the most logical thing to ask for, although it went against everything she believed in. “Then… then perhaps you can lend me one of your house-elves?” she grumbled.

He didn’t bother to hide that infamous smirk of his anymore. “What was that, Granger?” he slowly asked, eyes alit with amusement.

 _‘He’s enjoying this,’_ she mentally thought. _‘That bastard.’_ Sighing, she repeated, louder this time, “I said, perhaps you can lend me one of your house-elves.”

“I maybe hearing things, but I think you said you’d like to borrow a _h_ _ouse-elf_?”

“Oh, shut it, Malfoy,” she snapped, eyes dangerously flashing. “Although this is clearly _slavery_ , I can perfectly see that they are happy with what they are doing. Seeing you interact with Tippy made me think you weren’t treating them badly at all. And… and I bet you have loads in the Malfoy Manor and it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help. It’s not as if I’m going to abuse their kindness. I would just occasionally ask for help, not expect them to do everything. I’m still perfectly capable, albeit weak, but they could be awfully, awfully _efficient_ and” -

“Granger.”

“- Rose gets along with them anyway and her safety wouldn’t be an issue” -

“ _Granger_.”

“- Maybe I can give them some compensation like money or… or _socks_ ” -

“GRANGER!”

That had finally shut her up. She bit her bottom lip, cheeks tinged with red in embarrassment. She knew she tended to ramble when she was flustered. Hermione actually forgot how Draco Malfoy could easily rile her up with that sharp tongue of his.

“Bloody hell, Granger, I get it,” he said with an exasperated look on his face. She sheepishly smiled in return. “But to answer your question, _no_ , I can’t lend any of my house-elves to you.”

She frowned. After rambling for minutes and embarrassing herself, she expected a different answer. “Why not?” she demanded. “You have _loads_ of them, Malfoy.”

“Tippy is the only house-elf I trust with a child,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Then, you can maybe lend Tippy and get a new one from your Manor.”

“No,” he deadpanned. “Tippy’s staying.”

Her frowned deepened. “You usually send him to the manor for some errands,” she protested. “I think you’ll manage without him for weeks.”

“I said no, Granger,” he snarled. “He’s my house-elf and he’s _staying_.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, unwilling to back down. “Why, Malfoy?” she demanded. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want Rose to _leave_.”

It was meant to spite him. She knew how the blond was hesitant in taking in her daughter while she went to China to capture her husband’s killer. It was even laughable to _think_ that, knowing he would have gladly rid of the _menace_ , as what he so fondly called her daughter, and finally give him the peace that was disrupted ever since she dropped by that one stormy Sunday night.

But when Draco refused to look at her eyes, her jaw dropped. Even his cheeks were tinged with pink and Merlin’s _pants_ , he was embarrassed and definitely did not want Rose to leave yet.

Unwittingly, a huge beam appeared on her face. Her stomach ached a little from her action, but Hermione ignored it. “You don’t want Rose to leave,” she stated once more, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Merlin’s beard, Malfoy, you don’t!”

“Shut up, Granger,” he snapped, glaring darkly at her. “Your daughter’s a menace, so I’d gladly rid of her, if you must know.”

One thing she learned from spending times with Draco Malfoy during missions was that his go-to defense mechanism was always, _always_ insults. Perhaps, if she knew about this when she was younger, she would have understood him more. The young man who had saved her back countless times before and the man sitting right before her eyes were too different from the smarmy, snotty boy she went to Hogwarts with. She still wondered if eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy ever imagined himself in this situation.

“Rose tends to have that effect on people,” Hermione explained, ignoring his past comment. “People tend to dote on her whenever she’s in the vicinity.” Chuckling, she recalled fond memories of her adorable daughter making everybody swoon in the office. She even melted Mad-Eye Moody’s heart, and that was saying something!

A wistful expression then grew on her face as she looked back at Draco. “My daughter… she demanded attention with just her mere presence. She just, you know, lights up the whole room every time she comes in.” She chuckled and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “It was something she inherited from Ron, _thank Merlin_. People instantly liked Ron.” _‘Unlike me,’_ she thought, a stab of pain going through her heart. It was always something little Hermione never understood.

“She’s very bright,” he said. “Just like you.”

Was it her imagination or was Draco Malfoy comforting her?

She looked back at him and was frustrated to see that his mask was still in place. _‘That prick,’_ she thought with an internal sigh. For the past years, she only managed to crack through his mask during rare moments of Malfoy’s vulnerability. It was definitely ugly, the things he kept inside, and Hermione always pestered him that showing emotions was not a weakness - that showing emotions would be good for him. Apparently, he never kept her words at heart.

“Her appetite, though.” He made a face this time. “Definitely Weasley’s.”

Hermione laughed, the sound filling up the whole library. “She’s a growing child, Draco,” she said after her laughter died down. “What do you expect?”

“I wasn’t _that_ voracious when I was younger,” he pointed out with a huff.

Neither was she, always a picky eater, but it was one trait that made her five-year-old endearing all the more.

“So… a house-elf?” she raised once more. Deep inside, however, she knew Draco would protest until the ends of the earth. He didn’t have to know this, but she thought a male adult figure in Rose’s life would do her some good. Harry provided the role for three years, but he was constantly away and fighting monsters anyway. In Rose’s eyes, her Uncle Harry was merely a bloody superhero. 

“No,” he said, sneering once more. “Stay here for weeks, Granger, I don’t bloody care. Just don’t bring one of my house-elves. You might try to free them one-by-one again.”

He pinned her with a stare whilst she sheepishly smiled. She remembered camping out in Malfoy Manor one night and was caught in the act by the Malfoy heir himself when she tried to free his house-elves. She was banned ever since, not that she planned on going back to that awful place. The scar Bellatrix gave her twitched uncomfortably; she still had nightmares of that day.

“Sure, Malfoy, the house-elves,” she said with an eye roll. It really wasn’t difficult for him to admit he would terribly miss Rose. But then again, this was _Draco Malfoy_ \- he wouldn’t admit embarrassing things to save his life.

“We will terribly intrude your solace,” she continued with a smile, prompting him to grimace. “Rose is a menace and I’m” -

\- “A bloody _menace_ , too, if you ask me.” -

“I was going to say ‘injured’, but close enough,” she finished, looking at him with amusement.

Draco sighed. “Tippy can take care of things,” he flippantly said.

“Right, you’re busy with the Malfoy business,” she said, her grin widening. “It would be a shame to bother you, eh?”

He glared. “If you must know, _Granger_ , this Malfoy business fills my vault with unimaginable wealth,” he snarled. “Peasants like you wouldn’t understand.”

Boisterous laughter escaped from her mouth. Tears formed at the corner of her eyes and her abdomen protested, but she was too amused to care. “Merlin, Draco, you haven’t changed one bit,” she said, her laughter turning into soft chuckles despite his glares. “ _Peasants_. Who even uses that word now?”

“If you’re going to be a bother, I think it is best if you get out, Granger,” he growled, cheeks slightly tinged with pink.

Her amusement didn’t waver, but she raised her hands in surrender. “All right, all right,” she said, slowly standing up from her chair. The book she was reading left untouched, prompting her to raise an eyebrow. It was the first time she spent some hours in a library without reading _anything_. “It would be a terrible shame to bother you, your highness.”

“Shut it,” he snapped.

Hermione grinned and placed the book back into its proper place. She excused herself, smile still on her face. Before she could completely step through the threshold, she swiveled around and called out his name. He lifted his face, askance, prompting her smile to widen once more.

“Thank you, Draco,” she said, mustering all the gratitude she could. The past years had been terrible to her, and it made her feel worse Rose was caught in the middle of it all. It felt… _nice_ for someone to look out for them this time. “For everything.”

Her heart softened in fondness when Draco gave her one of his rare smiles. She once pointed out it made him look different in a good way before, which predictably made him stop smiling all the more.

“Anytime, Granger,” he said.

* * *

“Draco! Draco! Draco!”

The library door burst open and in came an overly excited five-year-old.

Draco sighed, wondering if it was a bad idea to spend some time in the library today. Tippy cleaned his study before, forcing him to use the library. He knew his house-elf was already done, but he thought it would be a waste of time to change his position. He was tempted right now, however, but he could not do anything anymore when Rose climbed onto his lap.

“What do you want?” he thought, giving her a disapproving glare.

Rose did not take notice. “I’m having my birthday soon!” she exclaimed in excitement. “I told Mama I want to have a party here, but she said she’ll ask you later because you are busy. But I got too excited and wanted to ask you myself!”

He really marveled her vocabulary and her fluency at such a young age. During five, he still had trouble saying Voldemort’s name. Humored, he bet Rose could say it perfectly.

“You should have listened to your mother,” he admonished, scowling at his still-unfinished business report. He really, really needed to finish it but the mother-daughter duo wouldn’t leave him in peace. Hermione was right when she said they would both be a bother.

“But may I have a party here Draco, please please please?” she pleaded, her blue eyes unnaturally round. “I promise to be good and-and I can invite Nott, too! I’ll call him Theo if you want, but he should bring Selena so that Mama can meet her.”

He lifted his eyebrow at that. Maybe Luna Lovegood meeting Hermione wasn’t a bad idea after all.

“Then we can invite Uncle Harry” - Draco made a face - “and maybe Aunt Figgy, too, but Mama said she is away.” He wondered who Aunt Figgy was. “Of course Sir Ginger will be there. And the rest of my toys!” She squealed and excitedly clapped her hands. “We can have a tea party with Mama and Theo and Harry and Selena and everybody!”

Draco groaned. It was starting to sound bad.

“Then Mama will make her delicious lasagna,” she continued. “Have you tasted Mama’s lasagna? It’s delicious! Uncle Harry can bring Florean’s, too!”

“All right, all right, slow down,” he said, slightly disgruntled. It was no doubt he inherited Granger’s blabbering.

“So can I have my birthday party, Draco, please?”

Draco sighed and made a huge show of rolling his eyes. “Do I really have a choice?” he asked.

Rose squealed and gave him a hug. “You’re the best, Draco!” she exclaimed. Unwittingly, he smiled and patted her back.

"You can invite more, if you like,” he said, already making a mental note of how to arrange the dining area to accommodate her visitors.

To his surprise, Rose shook her head. “I’m okay with you, Mama, Uncle Harry, Nott, Selena, and Aunt Figgy,” she said.

“What about your friends?”

Rose looked confused. “All my toys will be there,” she pointed out.

Draco frowned. “I meant, other children like _you_ ,” he explained. When Rose frowned at him, his eyes widened. “ _Blimey_ , you have no friends!”

“I have my toys!” she interjected. “They’re my friends.”

He didn’t bother correcting her that she didn’t have real, breathing, human friends. He took a mental note to demand Granger why she never exposed her child to other children before. No wonder she was a bloody menace.

“Rose!”

He and Rose looked at the library to see a horrified Hermione. Her daughter immediately scrambled down and ran towards the brunette.

“Mama, Mama, Draco agreed!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down in glee. “He said I can have my birthday party!”

Granger placed a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to stand still. Sheepishly, she glanced at Draco. “I meant to ask you later, during dinner but” - she weakly gestured at Rose - “you know how she can be awfully persistent.”

“Like you,” he snorted. This made her smile a little. “I agreed now so can I finally have some peace?” He pointed at the papers on his desk. “I have work to do.”

“All right, all right, sorry for the intrusion,” Hermione said, lifting Rose into her arms. She smiled prettily, prompting him to look away. “But thank you for agreeing to the party, Draco.”

What was with her today? She kept on incessantly thanking him, making him uncomfortable.

“Yes, yes, now go,” he said, making shooing gestures.

“We’ll see you at dinner later,” she said, then left with her daughter.

 _‘Finally, some peace,’_ he thought and proceeded to finish the bloody report for the rest of the night.

* * *

“Draco.”

He gasped in shock and grabbed his wand under the pillow. Draco blinked several times, allowing his eyes to adjust in the dark, and found himself staring at Rose’s wide, blue eyes.

“What the hell, Rose,” he grumbled, placing a pillow atop his head. “Go away.”

She snatched the pillow and threw it away. “I want cookies,” she said, now shaking him awake. “You said I can eat some today.”

“Bloody hell, it’s bloody midnight, go away.”

"No! Cookies!”

She started to pinch his arm and it was really painful. He hissed in irritation and glared her down, already wide awake. Rose wasn’t unfazed by his expression and already ran out of his room. Draco had no choice but to follow, grumbling all the way until he arrived in his kitchen.

Rose already prepared two glasses of milk and a plate of cookies.

“Well, you already prepared some yourself,” he said, scowling at his disturbed sleep. “You should have left me to sleep in peace.”

She shook her head. “If Mama comes out, I’ll tell her you wanted some cookies,” she said matter-of-factly, then proceeded to eat one of the delicious snack.

Draco rolled his eyes. She really would be well suited in Slytherin, despite her protests.

Sighing, and very much awake, Draco finally eased himself on one of the chairs and ate cookies in peace. Like Granger, his mother would scold him for hours every time she found him sneaking into the kitchen after bedtime to eat some midnight snack. He always forced Dobby to prepare him some, and the house-elf always got the brunt of Narcissa’s scolding. Lucius caught him once, and suffice to say, Dobby did not merely get a scolding and Draco wasn’t given breakfast the very next day. Ever since then, he didn’t dare eat midnight snacks anymore.

He found it funny that as an adult, he still felt a little nervous eating cookies in the middle of the night. If Granger caught them, she would undoubtedly point her finger at him.

As if on cue, the lights turned on and a stern Hermione Granger walked in. Rose immediately dropped her cookies and pointed her stubby finger at him. “Draco wanted cookies, Mama!” she exclaimed, prompting him to roll his eyes. There was no use in defending himself, really.

To his surprise, Hermione did not spare him a glance. “Come right here this instant, Rose Weasley,” she said, placing her hands against her hips. Draco was reminded of the times when Rose would do this action and couldn’t help but grin at the uncanny resemblance.

Rose jumped down from her chair and dejectedly strode towards her mother. “Sorry, Mama,” she said.

Hermione sighed. “What did I tell you about eating cookies after bedtime?”

“They’re bad for your teeth,” she said, tears already filling her eyes.

The brunette sighed once more. “Go back to bed,” she ordered, and Rose did not need to be told twice.

Once she was gone, Hermione pinned an amused Draco a glare. “Number eight on the list I gave you specifically said you can never give her sweets after bedtime, Malfoy,” she sternly said, tightly crossing her arms against her chest.

He rolled his eyes. “She’s just a child, Granger,” he appeased. “Besides, she had a rough few days and deserved some comfort. It’s not as if she’s doing it every day.”

She narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t the first time, is it?” she growled.

"It’s just the second time,” he replied with a frown. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, really, Granger.”

If looks could kill, Draco would be dead by now. But then again, he always had a knack of surviving dangerous times. “She needs to be properly disciplined, Malfoy,” she said with a scowl. “Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter, you slimy ferret.”

“Oh, so we’re back to name-calling now,” he said, his jaw tightening in annoyance. “And since we’re on the topic of how you raise your daughter, you bushy-haired know-it-all, why don’t we talk about how she severely lacked _friends_.”

This mellowed her down, face clouding with slight confusion. “What do you mean?” she asked, this time with a frown.

Draco sighed. “Rose wanted to only invite six people for her birthday, and none of them are her age,” he explained. “The rest… well, if you considered inanimate objects as real friends, then they’re invited, too.”

A stormy expression formed on her face. Draco patiently waited as Hermione paced for a while, finally deciding to occupy the seat beside the blond. To his amusement, she worriedly munched on a cookie. “Bloody hell, you’re right,” she groaned.

“No bad words, Granger,” he cajoled, smirk in place.

“Shove off, Malfoy,” she shot back with a light glare. Hermione finished a cookie, before looking back at him again. “I didn’t realize…”

Draco nodded. “I figured,” he said. “You’re a busy witch, which is to be expected from a War Heroine like you.”

“But that makes me a bad mother,” she said, downing some of Rose’s abandoned milk. “When she was born during the War…” She shifted uncomfortably and sadly looked into his eyes. “You and I both know the Headquarters is no place for a child.”

He didn’t say anything and waited for her to continue.

“After Voldemort was defeated, she was almost a year old, and things got a little busy with my marriage and all…” She looked wistfully at a distance and sighed. “I signed up to the Auror program instantly and didn’t have enough time to look after her. And when Ron died…”

Her eyes shone, but no tears fell. “I’m a bad mother,” she said, and looked down on the tabletop.

Draco felt highly uncomfortable, unknowing how to comfort the distressed brunette.

“Blimey, Granger, I just said she needed some real, human friends her age,” he snapped, too quickly for his own comfort. “I didn’t mean you’re a bad mother.” In fact, she was brilliant for raising a bright kid, with impeccable manners, and stubborn optimism. He was just too embarrassed to say those aloud.

Hermione gave him that weird expression once more. Before he could demand what _that_ look actually meant, she spoke, “Parenting came naturally to you, Draco, you know.”

Well, he did not expect that.

Sputtering and cheeks inflamed, he glared darkly at Hermione. “What the actual fuck?” he spat, but Hermione was unfazed. In fact, she became more amused.

“I know you’ll kill me for saying this, but I think you’ll make a good father,” she said, complete with that dazzling grin of hers. Draco’s skin crawled with her insinuation and she was right in thinking he could _Avada_ her right now for spouting ridiculous things.

“You are… you are good with Rose,” she said, her cheeks now tinged with pink. She refused to meet his eyes and instead focused her attention on drawing circles on the rim of the tall glass. “Harry, bless his heart, tries his very best, but you’re… you’re _different_. In a good way.”

She shyly glanced at him and he internally groaned in embarrassment.

“I let her eat ice cream once with peanuts, which triggered her allergic reaction,” he blurted out. He never wanted to tell her that, knowing she’d have his head, but _blimey,_ he needed to think of something to stop this stupid, _stupid_ conversation.

“WHAT?!”

“But she’s alive and happy now, yeah?” he said, immediately jumping out of his chair. “Goodnight, Granger, and don’t you _fucking_ dare repeat what you said to anyone ever again, understand?”

He did not wait for her to say anything in return. Draco swore, however, that he heard her wonderful laugh.

 


	9. The Birthday Party

If anyone asked him, Theo would deny that he bumped into Luna Lovegood in this Muggle coffee shop purposively. He was merely out for a stroll in Muggle London, escaping from his god-awful employees, paperwork and general responsibilities. As he was strolling around, his eyes chanced a glance at one of the overly-priced Muggle coffee shops and found _her_ sitting there, thoughtfully writing on some paper.

He had owled her two nights ago after Rose Weasley pleaded him to Luna over for her birthday. Theo thought this was a blessing in disguise; he was meaning to reach out to Lovegood, to insinuate another dinner with only just the two of them, but he never really knew how to start his letter. Inviting her for Rose’s party was a good thing. He knew she liked the menace and thought she would instantly reply.

Apparently, he thought wrong and had been wondering if his letter ever reached her.

He was admittedly wounded. No woman had ever ignored him that long. In fact, his past exes would bombard him with numerous texts in this so-called Muggle cell phone. The witches would send him letters; the desperate ones sent howlers. He just could not accept that Lovegood wouldn’t even bother sending a letter, even if to decline the invite.

With these thoughts in mind, he casually strode into the coffee shop. She hadn’t lifted her head from what she was doing, heightening his frustration. After ordering some random, fancy-sounding coffee, he immediately strolled towards her table and claimed the empty seat opposite her.

Finally, she looked up to glance at the intruder. Simply put, she was not happy to see him and Theo couldn’t _understand_ that.

“Hello,” she pleasantly said, but the annoyed tightness of her jaw never left her face. “You’re in Muggle London again.”

“Obviously,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table. He expectantly looked at Luna, waiting for some semblance of apology for her lack of response, but she merely stared at him blankly. “Oh for…” He paused, collected himself, and ran a hand through his stylishly disheveled hair. “Why didn’t you answer my letter?”

Luna silently placed her pen on the table and looked at him. Theo took that chance to survey her clothes, and was surprised once more with how un-Lovegood she looked right now. She was wearing denim overalls atop a white, plain shirt. Her blonde hair was left undone today, but he could see the radish earrings underneath them. She dressed _too_ simply it felt weird that this was actually the weird Luna Lovegood with a weird fashion sense he went to school with.

“I’m not sure if you have really noticed it, Theo, but I’ve cut off myself from anything magical,” she said with that dreamy voice of hers. Her blue eyes were not twinkling today, however, and it made him want to do strange things just to bring those sparkles back in her eyes.

“I can see that,” he said, meaningfully glancing at how severely lacking she was tightly clutching her wand or tucking it in her hair. He highly doubted they were even in her pockets. “But a reply to my letter wouldn’t have hurt you, yes?”

She managed to look a little guilty and refused to meet his eyes. “It was rude of me, I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I had too many wrackspurts for two days and I couldn’t find the time.”

She was speaking about those blasted make-believe creature once again.

“Funny how you speak about your beloved creatures when you specifically told me you cut yourself off from anything magical,” he snapped back, unable to stop himself. His ego felt a little hurt from the rejection and he couldn’t help but lash out at her.

Luna stiffened with his words, before slowly looking at him with such coldness he didn’t know Luna Lovegood could ever possess. “It reminds me of my father,” she simply said.

The annoyance immediately left him, replaced by gut-wrenching guilt. He remembered how Xenophilius Lovegood died in Azkaban after failing to give the Golden Trio to the Death Eaters during Voldemort’s reign. Theo remembered Luna had been kidnapped during that time, and how his father tried to bargain her life with the lives of her friends. In the end, the goodness in him prevailed and allowed them to leave. He was soon captured by the Death Eaters, thrown into Azkaban, and left to rot.

If Theo was her, he would have blamed himself for his father’s death. But then again, maybe she already did.

“Rose will like it if you come,” Theo finally said to break the tensed silence.

Upon the mention of the child, a small smile appeared on her face. “She is a sweet child,” she said, glancing at him. “Pity I cannot come.”

“Why not?” Theo persisted, “It is just a birthday party. It will be a private affair, I swear. We will celebrate it in Draco’s flat and only four people will attend.”

“Including Hermione and Harry, too?” she asked, her voice growing unnaturally quiet.

Theo scratched the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. _Obviously_ ,” he said, confused with her question. “Granger’s Rose’s mother and Potter’s the best friend of her parents. I’m sure they wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The idea of spending some time with the Gryffindors made him uncomfortable, but if it meant a lot to Draco, and he did owe Rose, he knew he couldn’t ditch this one.

“And they’re celebrating it in Draco Malfoy’s flat?” she asked, more as confirmation.

He nodded his head. “Yes,” he answered. “Rose and Granger are currently staying with him. Apparently, Granger’s too weak to go home and take care of both herself and Rose.”

A strange smile graced her lips. “Draco always thought Hermione was pretty,” she said. “I can see it in his eyes.”

He snorted.

He still could not understand his best friend’s strange fascination with the bushy-haired know-it-all. Theo knew Draco was extra harsh on Hermione because he could not understand his feelings, bless his bloody heart. He sure as hell knew it became clearer to him when they defected and helped the Light Side. He could still remember, clear as a day, how Draco looked when Granger and Weasley announced they were expecting a child and would be married as soon as the War was over.

If heartbreak had a face, it would easily look like Draco.

“I haven’t… talked to them for years,” she said, nervously glancing down on the tabletop.

“Why did you leave the Wizarding World?” he asked once again.

Luna slowly glanced back at him, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I think you already know,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Living there after the war… it just brings back too many memories. It’s - it’s _suffocating_.” A sad smile graced her features. “You, of all people, would understand. I can see it in your face, too. How magic can be tiring.”

Theo sometimes looked at his wand with disgust, shamed with the spells he had uttered just to survive. Wars brought out the most inhumane traits in a person. As a child, there were never any sides for him, only peace and comfort. He sure as hell knew the Light Side would not offer that to him. The Light and Dark were bloody ridiculous in the first place; whatever side he chose, there would always be turmoil and pain and fighting. It was just the manner of how acceptable they handled these things. The only reason he joined the Light Side during the last few years of the War was because they offered the closest thing to the peace and comfort he coveted. Oh, and Voldemort was a bloody bitch and he deserved to die for tearing his family apart.

His first time stumbling upon Muggle London was purely by chance. His business meeting with some obscure company in the Netherlands had been cancelled due to his temper, and he was too shamefaced to return to his company. Venturing around Muggle London, finding that quaint French restaurant he came to love, Theodore Nott could not believe how peaceful and comforted he felt. Ever since then, he ran away to this place when things got too suffocating in the Wizarding World.

So yes, he knew how magic could be tiring.

Desperately wanting to change the topic, he chanced a glance on the paper on the table and was surprised to see that she wasn’t writing; she was _drawing_. His eyes widened, amazed that it was actually a pretty drawing of the bustling Muggle street outside this quaint coffee shop.

“You draw?” he asked, cringing when he heard the awe in his voice. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the drawing, glancing at every detail she had perfectly captured.

“Yes.”

His eyes shifted onto her, surprised at the pink tinge on her cheeks. Was she embarrassed? “I actually prefer painting more,” she confessed. “But paint is terribly messy and it smells.” A small smile appeared on her face, seemingly remembering a memory. “Not everybody likes the smell of it.”

Theo blinked, not knowing what to reply. Instead, he watched as Luna grabbed her pen and started sketching once more.

“Rose will be expecting you,” he said as soon as he found his voice again. He grabbed one of the napkins on the table and scribbled down Draco’s address. “I’ll ask Draco to lower the wards in his flat to accommodate you in case you decided to come.” A small smirk appeared on his face as he stood up and looked down at her. “ _Or_ , you can just get there the Muggle way.”

He then proceeded to leave without glancing back, too afraid of what he would see on her face.

* * *

It was the day of Rose’s sixth birthday and everything was chaotic in Draco Malfoy’s humble abode.

House-elves from the manor came into his house first thing in the morning and had been blowing balloons and hanging decorations hither thither. When Rose had awoken, she had squealed in delight, pointing at all the decorations they did and had abandoned breakfast all together.

Because of this, she was grumpy even before lunch time, and Tippy had to prepare their lunch quickly to appease the hungry birthday girl. Draco wasn’t used to brunches and had to bite his tongue countless times so as not to snap at Rose. Hermione constantly gave him amused glances, perfectly understanding his turmoil, but did not comment any further.

Her birthday party would start by six o’clock sharp, but Hermione already started preparing food by three o’clock. The Malfoy house-elves gladly helped the nice Mistress in the kitchen and he hadn’t seen her ever since. For a woman recuperating from a deadly curse, Hermione sure had enough energy today.

Rose was busy preparing her toys for her party, asking Tippy to alter their clothes to make them prettier and festive. Draco knew he had no choice but to retreat to his study if he wanted to keep himself sane.

He was already hungry by five o’clock. Having not eaten lunch at exactly twelve noon, his stomach was already protesting with the disrupted meal time. He thought of ordering Tippy to send him some afternoon sandwiches, but he was sure they were already too busy with the other food preparations. Besides, he was admittedly curious with Hermione and her ‘delicious food’. He thought it would be better to be ravenous if they weren’t that good as what Rose said so that he wouldn’t offend her if he wouldn’t touch any of the food she prepared.

Potter came thirty minutes after five o’clock, dropped by at his study to say hi, and proceeded to disappear to his kitchens to help Hermione with the preparations.

Theo dropped into his study at exactly six o’clock, a crazed look on his face. “It’s a bloody warpath outside!” he exclaimed, plopping on one of the plush couches in the room.

Draco snorted his agreement.

Ten minutes after, there was knocking on his door. Hermione’s head popped in, a wide smile on her face. “Food will be ready in fifteen minutes,” she announced.

Malfoy hid a snicker whilst Theo gaped. “Blimey, Granger, are you all right?” Nott asked.

“Yeah, why?” Hermione asked.

She was a disaster. Her hair was frizzier than normal, with clumps of cheese and red sauce clinging to some strands. Her nose was smudged with chocolate and her clothes were stained with a lot of things Draco could not pinpoint.

“Nothing, Granger,” the blond said, amusement heard in his voice.

She looked confused for a while, before scratching her nose. This action successfully smudged the chocolate to her cheek. “Well, I better get cleaned up before dinner starts!” was her farewell before her bushy-haired disaster disappeared behind his door.

Unbeknownst to him, a fond smile grew on his face as he stared at the place where she used to stand. It was rare for Granger to be this disheveled. She was always impeccable and clean.

Draco suddenly blinked in surprise when Theo started snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“Hey, hey, eyes front soldier,” the shorter of the two said with a smirk on his face.

Draco smacked his hand away and glowered. “By the way, where’s Lovegood?” he asked.

All cajoling left Theo’s face. Instead, he frowned and refused to meet his eyes. “I’m not sure she’ll come,” he said, disappointment thick in his voice. He was silent for ages, before taking a deep breath, and smiling brilliantly once more. “Oh well, more fish in the sea for Theodore Nott to catch.”

He then proceeded to stride out of his study. Draco sighed and soon followed, momentarily distracted as he marveled at how the house-elves designed his house for Rose’s birthday. Numerous helium balloons clustered on his ceiling. Bewitched confetti rained down from above, and disappeared before they reached the ground. Huge ‘Happy Birthday, Rose’ letters were placed at the center of the room. For a small party, the house-elves sure didn’t hold back. It was a shame that only six people would be attending a six-year-old party.

The birthday girl was currently sitting on one of the couches in the living room, playing with the Tornados figurines with Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived had his wand at hand, pointed at Draco’s beloved figurines, and made them do tricks that made Rose clap in delight.

“Those cost a thousand galleons, Potter,” Draco drawled, announcing their presence. “ _Each_.”

Harry was surprised, both with their sudden arrival and the price of the figurines, disrupting his concentration. The Captain Birch figurine, which was suspended mid-air, came hurtling down. Little screams from the figurine was heard and thankfully, Harry Potter’s Seeker reflexes were still intact. Else, his vault would have felt the sudden lack of a thousand galleons.

“Be careful with those, Potter,” Theo added with a smirk, prompting the auror to glare.

“Now, now, boys, be good in front of the child.”

All eyes latched onto Hermione and Draco felt his jaw drop. She was wearing a yellow blouse tucked under a blue, flowing skirt. She was also wearing black kitten heels and to complete her look, her hair was tamed and held away from her face by a yellow headband.

“Eyes front, soldier,” Theo whispered in his ear again and he had to quickly close his mouth before he made a fool out of himself. He shot his best friend a glare, who was smirking at him knowingly.

“You look wonderful, ‘Mione,” Potter said, sauntering towards the brunette to give her a tight hug.

Draco made a face and glared at Potter’s messy, jet-black hair. Theo tried to stifle his amused chuckles but failed in the end. 

“I’m hungry!” Rose exclaimed, bringing out chuckles from the other adults in the room. “Let’s eat.”

“Yes, yes, birthday girl,” Hermione said, bending down to carry the child in her arms. “Blimey, you sound like your father.”

Potter sadly smiled and nodded his agreement. “She really does,” he softly said, following Hermione into the dining area. Theo shot Draco a glance and followed suit.

Draco sighed at his grumbling stomach and finally entered his dining area. Decorations were much simpler here, but _Merlin,_ the smell that instantly invaded his nostrils had watered his mouth. He sure hoped their tastes would not disappoint.

Dinner started and conversations were light. Hermione constantly mothered over Rose, who kept on protesting she was old enough to wipe her face or to fill her glass with orange juice. Draco was highly amused by the child’s antics, but the sadness in Hermione’s eyes was noticeable. There was nothing more saddening than your child growing up before your eyes and slowly not needing any of help from you.

 _‘Fucking hell, Malfoy,’_ a voice hissed inside his mind. _‘You sound like a bleeding parent.’_ Draco scowled and shook his head to rid himself of the voice.

Theo and Potter were engaged in a casual conversation about Quidditch, which quickly turned heated.

“How can anybody still like the Chudley Cannons?” Harry blurted out, frustratingly batting a stubborn fringe away his face. “They hadn’t won any season for _ages_. If I were their captain, I would have fired all the players and rehire better ones.”

Nott darkly glowered. “They have the best defense,” he protested, ignoring Rose’s chant of ‘Tornados’. “Well, all right, their offense _sucks_ , but you have to admit their Keeper is brilliant.”

Draco had to smirk when Potter actually looked conflicted. He knew his best friend wouldn’t back down at all. He had to make sure everybody understood why he would love the Chudley Cannons until his last breath. Which was why Draco always tried to steer clear from any Quidditch-related conversation with Theo; it always ended with a fist fight.

“Which team do you even support?” Theo snapped. “We already have Tornados fans here.”

“Tornados are the best!” Rose hollered, pumping her fists in the air. She managed to splatter lasagna sauce towards her mother, who merely rolled her eyes and muttered words like ‘ridiculous’ and ‘Quidditch’ under her breath.

Draco quirked an eyebrow when Harry hesitantly glanced at Hermione, before answering, “I support the… err… Holyhead Harpies.”

Upon the mention of the team, the bushy-haired brunette instantly stiffened. Ginny Weasley was Chaser to the team and her addition to the line-up actually improved the stats of the team. He couldn’t argue with Potter’s choice, if he was honest with himself.

Theo, oblivious to the slight tension in the room, made a huge show of rolling his eyes. “You only support that team because your bloody _girlfriend’s_ in it,” he snapped.

Color instantly drained from Hermione’s face and Draco sighed. He kicked Theo as hard as he could, earning him a dark glare from his best friend.

“What is the matter with you?” Theo exclaimed, bending down to massage his smarting extremity.

His best friend could seriously be daft sometimes. Draco often wondered if he would always be cursed to be friends with dunderheads, and dunderheads alone. “Holyhead Harpies,” he whispered under his breath for only Theo to hear. He then shot a quick look at Hermione.

Realization thankfully dawned on Theo and he had the decency to look apologetic at both Granger and Potter. “Right… err… go Holyhead Harpies,” Nott lamely cheered, and proceeded to stuff his face with Granger’s delicious lasagna. Rose wasn’t exaggerating at all when she complimented her mother’s cooking.

Draco cleared his throat and decided to break the awkward silence this time. “So, Potter,” he casually drawled, “How’s Rodolphus Lestrange?”

It was apparently a bad thing to ask because Harry Potter gave him the darkest glare The-Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived could ever muster.

“I don’t think this is really the right time to talk about it,” the auror answered through gritted teeth.

“Harry,” Hermione sternly said. “It’s fine. I have to know, too.”

Harry hesitantly looked at his best friend and sighed. “Ugh, Malfoy, way to go and ruin the party,” bloody Potter muttered under his breath.

“Idiot Nott started it,” Draco interjected in a hiss, prompting Potter to roll his eyes and said Nott to glare at him.

“Really, boys,” Hermione said with a disappointed frown.

Draco immediately backed down, not wanting to rile anyone up anymore. The brunette looked much too exhausted for his own liking. He knew Potter would crack soon.

“We… err… we still haven’t gotten anything from him,” Harry finally said, avoiding Hermione’s gaze. “Spells did not work on him and apparently, our favorite Moldy Voldy developed a potion that would produce some immunity from Veritaserum.”

Theo choked at the nickname while Draco resolutely nodded.

“I told you it’s a waste of time keeping him in the ministry,” the blond said. “Lestrange is stubborn and loyal to boot. He will never crack.”

“We _need_ vital information, Malfoy,” Potter snapped back. “We already have a good source of vital information. And unless you actually are secretly conniving with those bastards and have the information we needed, then we can all bloody go our merry ways, eh?”

Draco was fuming. “ _How dare you_ ” -

He was saved from cursing Potter’s ugly face when a soft chime alarmed, alerting a newcomer’s arrival.

Potter was shamefaced as Draco stood up and gave him a stony glare. At the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione’s disappointed scowl at her best friend and felt irrationally triumphant.

As he slowly approached the door, he wondered who would be arriving at this time of the day. When he opened the door and saw a nervous, but unmistakable Luna Lovegood standing on his porch, he remembered that Rose invited her. And Theo said she wouldn’t arrive.

“Hello, Draco,” she said with that strange, dreamy voice of hers. “This is where Rose’s birthday is, isn’t it?”

The blond was too gobsmacked with her presence. Her weirdness had absolutely toned down. She was wearing a simple pale yellow dress that brought out the blueness of her eyes. The only thing that was remarkably her was the radish earrings dangling from her ears and… were those _corks_ strung through a string and hanging on her neck?

“Um, yes, come in,” he said, stepping aside to usher the blonde inside.

He carefully watched as Luna slowly walked into the dining area. She looked amazed by the house-elves’ decorations, commenting how the confetti magic was brilliant, and the balloons were lovely, but Draco was too busy staring unbelievably at her.

“Selena!”

Rose squealed and instantly jumped down from her seat, dashing towards the newcomer.

“Hello, Rose, happy birthday!” she greeted, chuckling softly as Rose’s small arms wrapped tightly around her abdomen.

Draco looked at the adults in the room. Theo was positively ecstatic, having stood up immediately upon Luna’s arrival. Granger and Potter, however, looked like they had seen a ghost.

“ _Blimey_ ,” Harry breathlessly said. “Luna.”

There were tears in the younger witch’s eyes, but the happiness in her smile was unmistakable. “Hello, Harry,” she greeted. “It’s been a long time.”

Hermione suddenly dashed forward and, like her daughter, threw her arms around Luna. “Oh Merlin,” the older witch cried, tears also streaming down her eyes. “Where have you been? We’ve been owling you for _years_ but you never replied.”

Luna quickly looked at Theo in alarm. Instantly, Nott stepped forward. “I hate to break this heartwarming reunion, but I think she came here for me,” he said, complete with a handsome smirk.

The blonde discreetly wiped her tears and lightly glared at him. “I came for Rose,” she said.

Theo lifted his hands, chuckling, and took a step back.

“We missed you,” Potter said, also giving her a hug. “We have so many things to tell you.”

“Mama, Mama,” Rose then said, tugging on the hem of Hermione’s skirt. “Can we eat cake now? Selena’s here.”

“Selena?” Hermione and Harry echoed. Luna’s cheeks tinged with pink, and Theo smirked.

“It’s a long story, mates, really,” Theo said, gesturing at the impatient redhead. “The menace wants her cake now so we must give it already.”

* * *

“You came because you wanted to see me, didn’t you, _Selena_?” he asked, a smirk gracing his handsome face.

Luna sighed. “I came because it’s Rose’s birthday,” she deadpanned, daintily munching on a slice of the chocolate cake. “She had wrackspurt infestation the last time I saw her, and I was worried.” She smiled prettily at the young girl, who returned it with a huge beam of her own. “I’m glad to see that the wrackspurts are gone now.”

“I hate to break that pretty heart of yours, but wrackspurts are bloody non-existent,” Theo whispered under his breath.

She thoughtfully tilted her head. “Funny, because you had some infestation the last time we ran into each other,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting into a small smile.

“What the hell are wrackspurts anyway?” he asked. Theo lightly glared at Draco when he heard his question. His best friend merely shrugged, then returned to his conversation with Harry Potter.

“They usually enter your ear and travel to your brain,” she explained with her airy voice. “Infestations usually occur, which may manifest as sadness or distraction. They are dispelled by thinking happy thoughts.”

Theo loudly snorted. “I would have bloody well felt it if things are crawling inside my brain, thank you very much,” he replied.

Luna smiled. “They’re gone now, if you must know,” she simply said. “I do wonder why.”

He choked on his drink, prompting Draco to absentmindedly pat on his back until his cough subsided. Theo could feel a blush creeping on both of his cheeks, and refused to admit that the reason his wrackspurts were gone was because Luna Lovegood actually came.

They weren’t even real, those little buggers.

* * *

After dinner, Hermione worked her magic and charmed the dishes clean. They all then moved to the living room so that Rose could now open her gifts.

Theo gave her a bagful of every imaginable sweets sold in Honeydukes. Hermione wasn’t pleased with the gift, but she held her tongue for the sake of her daughter’s happiness. She couldn’t help but give Nott a dark glare as compensation, and she was secretly smug how he withered slightly under her glare.

Harry gave her cute Tornados Quidditch robes that had fitted her perfectly. The name ‘Weasley’ was stitched at the back and Rose had been proudly wearing it. Hermione doubted she would remove it anytime soon. She resolutely looked away from the back of the Quidditch robes, however. To see the name ‘Weasley’ scribbled on a Quidditch robe reminded her of Ginny and she couldn’t afford to be sad on the day of her daughter’s sixth birthday.

Luna, surprisingly, also had a gift for her daughter. She kept on giving the younger witch inquisitive looks, questions sitting at the tip of her tongue. Why did Rose kept on calling her ‘Selena’ when the other adults called her by her given name? Why did she disappear after the Second Wizarding War and where did she go? And why, in Godric’s name, did she keep on looking at Theo for help when Luna became noticeably uncomfortable? Theo and Luna was such a strange pair. From the gossips and Draco’s stories, she highly doubted Luna was even the womanizer’s type.

Luna gave Rose a book, which was perfectly okay for Hermione. However, when she that it was a book about the non-existent creatures she believed, the mother was conflicted. Rose was positively ecstatic with her gift, already running to Draco to plead him to read it to her before bedtime, and the blond had no choice but to agree.

“Mama, your gift!” Rose then said, running towards Hermione.

The brunette fondly smiled before pulling out the gift-wrapped book from her pocket.

“It’s a book, isn’t it?” the child happily cried. Hermione still couldn’t help but feel floored that her daughter inherited her love for books. It was something they could share upon, especially during Rose’s teenage years. It was what Hermione’s mother did when she was growing up, and that was something special for the brunette.

“Open it,” she said, and Rose carefully tore the gift wrapper away.

When the book was fully exposed, she couldn’t help but glare at both Harry and Draco, who simultaneously snorted upon reading ‘ _Hogwarts: A History_ ’.

“Oh, Hermione, this is so you,” Luna dreamily said, oblivious to the snickers the other men were trying to stifle. The blonde witch peered closer to the book, and then smiled. “This is your first copy, isn’t it?”

Hermione normally took quite good care of her books, but her first copy of _‘Hogwarts: A History’_ was well-loved and well, slightly worn out from all the reading she did. If people passed by her small bookshelf, they would undoubtedly guess that this one was her particular favourite amongst the other, well-kept books.

“It is,” she finally said, smiling brilliant when Rose looked thrilled. “This is my most favourite book, so you must take good care of it, Rosie.”

“Yes, Mama,” Rose piped, hugging the book against her chest.

Mrs. Figg gave her a sweater with kittens embroidered on it. Bill, Charlie, and George, who were the only immediate Weasley family that stayed in contact with the mother and child, gifted Rose with some suspicious new products from the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. She thought of immediately hiding it from her daughter, lest she wreaked havoc in Draco’s home with the joke products.

Speaking of Draco, Rose was now expectantly looking at him for her gift. He looked a little nervous, much to Hermione’s suspicion, and assured Rose that it would arrive anytime soon.

As Rose pouted and demanded for her gift, Hermione couldn’t help but smile at how well Draco Malfoy handled her daughter. She knew Rose was a handful; as a child, Hermione had been the same. Despite his foul-mouth sometimes, Draco actually took care of Rose quite well. She still firmly believed he would make a good father, despite his protests.

The fireplace chimed, signaling an arrival, and Draco immediately jumped onto his feet. He shooed Hermione, Rose, and Luna away, threatening the child to not give his gift if she tried to peek. The ladies and the child went to the kitchens without protest, but Rose was simply an impatient child. She kept on jumping and fidgeting and pulling her hair.

“She really looks a lot like you,” Luna said, smiling widely when Rose gave her a toothy grin.

“A lot of people does say,” Hermione said, heart swelling a tiny bit. It made her feel prouder and good when people kept on pointing that her daughter looked a lot like her. Her personality, however, it was more of Ron. Rose actually got the best traits of both her parents, and Hermione was thankful for that. She believed her Rosie wouldn’t have a hard time adjusting once she started attending Hogwarts.

“I want to apologize on behalf of Theodore for bringing Rose to our dinner a few days ago,” the younger witch said. “In my defense, I didn’t even know he was bringing a child.”

Hermione thoughtfully looked at Luna. “So there is a Theo and you now, huh?” she inquired.

Her eyebrows rose when Luna slightly blushed. “Oh no, Merlin no, we were just having some… err… dinner,” she said. Hermione had this feeling Luna was keeping something to herself, but decided to let it slide.

Instead, she continued, “I heard that you’ve been staying in the Muggle World.”

Luna refused to meet her eyes. “Yes, quite right,” she replied.

“We’ve tried to reach out to you, you know,” Hermione added, persistent. “We were worried sick when you just disappeared after the war.”

“I… well… I needed some time.” Luna took a sharp, shaky breath and gave her a watery smile. “Away from here, that is.”

“You have been well, though, yes?”

“Oh, yes,” the younger witch replied. “The Muggle world is a lovely place for a flighty girl like me.” Hermione couldn’t help but grin at Luna’s soft chuckle.

“What have you been doing these past few years, then?” Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

Luna absentmindedly drew circles on the cup in front of her. “I’m what Muggles call an interior designer,” she revealed. “I especially like to paint walls the most.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up in surprise and delight. “Oh, Luna, that’s wonderful,” she gushed. “I remembered when you used to paint back in Hogwarts and they were really lovely. I’m glad you’re pursing something you love.”

“Thank you,” she daintily replied.

Their conversation was momentarily halted when Rose released a huge sigh and started stomping all over the kitchen.

“Rosie,” Hermione called out with a chuckle, “Stay still.”

“Mama,” the child whined, clutching her curls in frustration. “Draco is taking too long. My gift!” She started stomping her feet again. “My gift!”

“Blimey, she definitely did not get that from me,” Hermione joked, rolling her eyes when Rose petulantly crossed her arms against her chest.

Luna, a sad smile now on her face, reached out for Hermione’s hand. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” she whispered. “About Ron.”

She matched her smile with a sad one of her own, but she was not able to say anything in return when Draco finally called for them.

Once they entered the living room, the decorations of the house-elves were already gone. At the very front was undoubtedly a flat screen television, and Draco looked very proud of himself.

“A telly!” Rose exclaimed, already dashing forward to turn on the appliance.

“Well, you had been pestering me about not watching your kartowns,” Draco drawled, but there was no irritation in his voice. In fact, Hermione could spy a small smile growing on his face. “You’ll be staying here for a few more weeks, so I decided to give you something that would keep you away from bothering me, you bloody menace.”

Hermione had let it slide that he cursed in front of her daughter. Instead, all she could do was stare incredulously at the blond man who used to bully her as a child.

Theo and Luna were already asking Rose about the shows she watched. Harry had a pinched look on his face, kept on darting strange looks at Draco, before sighing and joining the others in marveling at the new television.

“You shouldn’t have bothered buying one,” Hermione said, finally finding the words to say to Malfoy. She felt incredibly nervous and embarrassed, although she didn’t really know why. “We’ll be gone soon, Draco, and well… you know… you and technology…”

“Sweet Salazar, Granger, you still think I’m a bigoted Pureblood?” He didn’t sound offended, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. “Your daughter had been pestering me ever since she stayed here, and it was the gift all I could ever think about.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his head and lamely gestured at the appliance. “Besides, I’m awfully curious. Theo had been hounding on and on how I’ve been missing a lot, so a telly will be a nice addition.”

It was… it was bloody _sweet_ and all Hermione could do was beam brightly at him.

“What now, Granger?” he spat, cheeks slightly tinged with pink.

“I told you you’ll make a good parent, Draco,” she teased, prompting his cheeks to darken in color.

“And I told you to never repeat those words again!” he barked in a hurried whisper. “Fucking hell, Granger, I just installed a telly in my house and you think I’ll be a good parent?” He scoffed and crossed his arms. “I’ve seen one in Theo’s home and I sure as hell know most shows shouldn’t be shown to _children_.”

Hermione nodded her head to concur. “There are nice cartoons suitable for children,” she explained. “I mostly accompany Rose when she watches the telly so I could monitor her.” A sudden thought came into mind and a wicked grin grew on her face. “Hey, you know what, since you were gracious enough in buying a television for my child, I trust that you’ll be able to keep her away from the bad shows. A word of warning, though. Most children shows are… _mind-numbing_.”

Draco looked confused, unsure of what she meant, but Hermione merely smirked then strode away to join the group.


	10. The Hospital Visit

“Draco.”

Draco sighed and looked up from his desk. Granger stood on the threshold, a small smile on her face. _‘Like mother, like daughter,’_ he thought with a sneer. If it wasn’t blasted Rose who was bothering him, Hermione Granger easily took her place.

“What now?” he grumbled, sifting through the reports he had to write, edit, and mail. The paperwork was _endless_ ; he really hated the Malfoy business. “I said I can’t be disturbed for the day.”

Three companies he was affiliated with were facing bankruptcy and if Draco didn’t work hard to draft a contingency plan, one-eighth of the Malfoy wealth would be severely affected. He was still a prideful man and he did not want to be known as the ‘Malfoy that lost one-eighth of the family’s riches’. Although serving Voldemort had been quite expensive, Lucius Malfoy was a very intelligent, business-minded man. Draco could not, for the life of him, understand how his father was still able to fill their vaults despite the Dark Lord’s lavish reign of terror. The Muggle companies most likely contributed to their continued riches. He suspected corruption was at play too, but Draco doubted he could even stomach doing what his father did.

“Yes, I’ve heard,” the brunette said. “But, I think it isn’t right you still skip breakfast. It’s the important meal after all.”

Before he could protest, Hermione already called for Tippy. His house-elf popped instantly with a small tray at hand. Draco refused to show that he was actually quite hungry while Tippy placed a plate of pancakes drenched with maple syrup on his table and a cup of coffee.

“So, you order around my house-elf now?” he snarled. Tippy quickly disappeared and Hermione was affronted.

“I do not order him around!” she protested. “I _requested_ him to bring you one.”

He flippantly waved his hand. “Technicalities,” he said, nonchalantly grabbing a fork and slicing through the mouth-watering breakfast.

“Trust Draco Malfoy to answer snark to my kindness,” she answered with a glare.

Draco lightly smirked and lifted his head to look at her once more. “Oh, did I hurt your little Gryffindor heart?” he cajoled, amused at how she bristled with his comment.

“We’re not in Hogwarts anymore, honestly,” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms against her chest. “We can’t forever label each other based on our Houses before.”

“But I’ll always be a Slytherin through and through,” he said, hand in heart. “And you will always be a true, bleeding Gryffindor, Granger.”

Hermione made a huge show of rolling her eyes. “Prat,” she insulted. “I don’t even know why I put up with you.”

His smirk morphed into a full-blown grin. Their banter was reminiscent of their time together as partners for missions. At first, there was hostile energy between the two, as expected from a known Pureblood, Slytherin bigot, and a know-it-all, bossy Gryffindor. But somehow, as they started to trust each other, to save each other’s back, hostility turned into tolerance. Tolerance turned into reluctant acquaintance. After all, if Hermione did not trust him, he wouldn’t be taking care of Rose in the first place.

“If you’re done being a bother, you may now leave,” he said, waving her off again.

“Wait, I actually came here to give you something,” she said, rummaging in her pockets. “A letter came for you but since you weren’t at breakfast a while ago…”

Draco glanced at the letter and blanched at the familiar St. Mungo’s seal on it. Instantly, he grasped the letter from her hands and tore it open.

He silently read the letter, his heart dropping to his stomach once he had finished.

“Draco?” she asked, worry in her voice. “Is everything all right?”

He swallowed the dreadful lump in his throat and looked at her. He might have looked bad because her worry increased ten-fold.

“My… err…” He cleared his throat, willing the shakiness to subside. “My mother has been brought to St. Mungo’s.”

She gasped. “Is she alright?” she softly asked.

Draco released a soft, hollow chuckle and stood up from his seat. Blast the reports and the one-eight loss the Malfoy fortune might suffer. If his mother died today, Draco wouldn’t have any use with the money.

“I’m going to St. Mungo’s,” he hastily said, grabbing his robe and wearing it. “I might not come back today.”

“Let me come with you,” she volunteered, taking a step forward. When he looked at her in surprise, she shifted her eyes away. “I… I don’t think you have to be alone today, Draco.”

His mouth dried with her words, but he still shook his head. “No, no, you’re still weak from the curse,” he protested. “Besides, who will take care of Rose?”

“I’m fine now, really,” she interjected. “I’ve rested for days and, well, we can bring Rose? I think I can manage to take care of her while we are there.”

Draco looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t want to be a bother, Granger,” he gruffly said. His eyes widened, however, when Hermione caught his hand and forced him to look at her.

“I mean it, Draco,” she firmly said. “You shouldn’t be alone today.”

He took a sharp intake of breath, a myriad of emotions swirling in his heart, before finally nodding his head. “Okay,” he whispered.

Hermione smiled. “Okay,” she echoed.

* * *

They arrived in St. Mungo’s and Draco was in a daze. Hermione kept on giving him worried looks, which he did not notice. Rose, sensing the blond’s distress, had resolutely held his hand as they walked through the white walls of the hospital and hadn’t said a word.

Hermione quickly asked the receptionist where the Lady Malfoy was staying. The witch eyed her with surprise; after all, how could she not recognise Hermione Granger, the most celebrated War Heroine of their age? It was admittedly suspicious to see her, with her daughter, and the mute Malfoy all together, but Hermione had no time for gossip right now.

“The room, please,” she snappily said, eyes slightly narrowing at the receptionist’s gawking.

“Fourth floor, Room 406, miss,” the younger witch hastily replied, glancing sheepishly at the brunette.

Hermione turned to Draco and Rose. “Come on,” she said. “Room 406.”

Draco emotionlessly strode forward while the young girl glanced at him worriedly. Hermione sighed, and followed them up to the lift.

Throughout their small journey, Hermione could not help but feel a little sympathy for Draco. If he only loved one person in the world, she knew, without a doubt, that she would be Narcissa. 

Defecting had never been easy for him. After all, he had caused the infiltration of Hogwarts and almost killed Dumbledore. Most members had doubted his change of heart. Heck, even Hermione did not buy his promise to help the Light Side win. He, together with Theodore Nott, had been isolated for a week in a room in Grimmauld Place, spells and potions bombarded their way to finally reveal their true intentions.

But then, a week passed, and their intentions remained to be pure. McGonagall and Shacklebolt, leaders of the Order of the Phoenix after Dumbledore’s passing, finally gave them their first assignment, despite the protest of the others.

Hermione remembered cornering him one time, after finally being released from isolation. She remembered his weariness, but determination. She remembered the stubborn refusal to listen to the taunts of the others. But most of all, she remembered the flicker of remorse in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but demand him what his true intentions were.

" _What do you want, Malfoy?” she harshly asked, eyes glinting in the dark corridor in Grimmauld Place. “I don’t believe in the crap McGonagall said about you being good.”_

_“I don’t need to prove myself to you, Granger,” he bit back, making a move to stride to his designated room he shared with Nott._

_But Hermione wasn’t done. She grabbed his arm and forced him to look at her once more. “What is your true intention for defecting?”_

_He stared at her wordlessly for ages, stormy eyes conflicted with a myriad of emotions Hermione could not put a name on. And then, jaw tightening, eyes resolute, he pulled his hand away, and answered, “I want to protect the person I love.”_

It was during their reluctant partnership in missions when Hermione came to realize it was Narcissa Malfoy he had wanted to protect. After Lucius’ death, she found out that his mother had fallen ill, heart too weak and grieving. No amount of magic could cure a broken heart, and Hermione suspected hers were already too broken beyond repair.

Her thoughts were brought back to the present when they finally arrived, and it was Hermione who opened the door. She felt a lump forming in her throat at the sight of the frail woman lying on the hospital bed, encased in a blue and white light. Hermione had learned about Healership for a while during the war, knowing that some simple knowledge would help her and her friends in missions. She knew the blue light showed Narcissa’s vital signs; the light white, with runes, were there to stabilize Narcissa. Briefly looking at his mother’s vital signs, her condition didn't look good.

Draco immediately strode forward and grasped Narcissa’s thin hand. Hermione felt her eyes burn, but knew that he needed some time alone with his ill mother.

“Rosie,” she called, and looked down at her daughter. The child had a pout on her face, and her eyes were wide with worry. “Let’s go to the fifth floor. I heard they have some delicious hot cocoa there.”

Her daughter looked conflicted for a while, eyes still staring at Draco. “But Mama,” she whispered. “Draco looks sad. He needs some hot cocoa too to cheer him up.”

Hermione warmly smiled and carried Rose in her arms. “All right, we’ll bring him some, too,” she promised. “He needs some time alone with his mother first, okay? We’ll be back soon.”

Rose sadly looked at Draco before finally nodding her head.

She glanced at the mother and son with sadness in her eyes, before finally closing the door.

* * *

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

Draco did not need to look at Healer Matthews to know the answer to his question. The last time he discussed his mother’s health with the healer, Narcissa was doing fine. Although stable, she wasn’t getting well either. But then, when the news broke that she was rushed to the hospital after collapsing in her gardens, this did not bode well for him.

She _was_ getting worse.

“I’ve ran additional tests just to make sure,” the healer said, prompting Draco to finally look up at him. Healer Matthews looked grim and Draco regretted looking at him. “Her mind… I apologize for not being able to look for any cure yet.”

He sincerely looked frustrated and disappointed with himself. Draco did not have the heart to burst out in anger when he had been witness to Healer Matthews efforts.

“We… we have to discuss possible outcomes now, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco almost marveled himself for keeping his anger in check, but then, he could not accept this. Whipping his head so fast with eyes blazing in fury, he glared darkly at the healer. The older wizard merely looked at him coolly, having handled far worse patients - much less loved ones - in the past.

“If it means I have to exhaust all the Malfoy fortune to cure my mother, then I will gladly do so,” he barked, balling his hands into fists.

“Mr. Malfoy…”

“ _No_ ,” he growled. “I refuse to think of any _other_ possible outcomes than curing my mother, you understand me?”

Healer Matthews took a deep breath and sadly looked at Draco. “We have been trained not to give false hopes, Draco,” he said, weary lines appearing on his forehead. The blond looked away, unable to listen to him any further. “Lady Malfoy is _tired_. The mental and emotional damage she went through during the War may have damaged her. Lucius’ death might have been the last straw.”

“Shut up!” he exclaimed, quickly standing up from the chair he was sitting. “Shut the bloody hell up! If you have nothing more to say, then I suggest you _fucking_ leave.”

The healer looked highly affronted at being insulted, but Draco did not care. He refused to believe whatever he said. He refused to believe that his mother was beyond saving and could not recognise him anymore. He had spent many countless nights, trying to research on how to bring her mother back. He had spent quite a fortune just to give her the latest potion, to try out the latest spells, and to request additional tests that may help in arriving to her cure.

He could not give up now. He had already given too much.

“Draco…”

“I SAID LEAVE!” he roared.

At the same time, the door had burst open with an aghast Hermione striding through.

“Draco!” she scolded and he deflated quickly. He looked away from her fiery eyes and had to swallow the lump that had been lodged in his throat ever since he received the bad news this morning. “Outside. Now!”

His jaw tightened, annoyed at being ordered around. But he had quite forgotten this was Hermione Granger. The witch could be rightfully bossy if she put her mind at it, and with the tone of her voice, he knew she would resort to other means if it meant he would follow her order.

Draco scowled, refused to look at neither Healer Matthews nor Rose, and then stubbornly strode into the corridor together with Hermione.

“Look, I understand what you may have been feeling right now, but that doesn’t give you the right to start cursing at someone!” she reprimanded, cheeks red from frustration and her hair bushier with her palpable annoyance. Draco still resolutely refused to look at her. “Healer Matthews had been doing his best and you, of all people, should know that.”

He balled his fist and plopped down on one of the benches. He _knew_ that. He bloody well knew everything she said. Guilt slowly crept in, ashamed at bursting out at Healer Matthews, who had been nothing but helpful to him and his mother. The anger had completely left him, replaced by a mixture of guilt and despair and he was… he was just too _tired_.

Draco felt Hermione slowly sitting down beside him.

“Draco,” she called. Her voice wasn’t angered anymore, and he could feel the lump in his throat again.

Mentally, he kicked himself for losing his composure in public. He had always been good at keeping his emotions behind his indifferent mask, but lately, he felt that he was slowly losing this talent. Ashamed with how his eyes were burning, he hid his face behind his hands and sighed.

“Draco, look at me,” she cajoled, her small hands grasping his larger ones.

Her words were soothing, her touch comforting, and Draco found himself obliging to her request without any protests.

Hermione’s eyes were filled with concern and warmth and everything that he knew was definitely her. His hands were on his lap now, but her tiny hands hadn’t let go of them yet.

“I know that it is wrong to give out false hopes,” she started. “But… your mother is strong. I’ve seen her in battle and… and she _fiercely_ loves you.”

He slowly looked at her, eyes still shining with the tears he refused to fall. “She knows that you are still here for her,” she reassured. “So, I think it is safe to say you cannot give up on her just yet, yeah?” The smile she gave him had warmed his heart, and he had to try his hardest this time not to show his tears. “All hope isn’t lost yet.”

Draco took a sharp, shaky intake of breath, and weakly squeezed her hand.

“You know, it is okay to cry,” she said, slight teasing in her voice. He lightly glared at her and she chuckled. “It’s not the end of the world if you showed me your tears, Draco.”

Oh, she had seen him cry, _once_ , and Draco refused to repeat that mistake ever again. “You wish, Granger,” he weakly spat, but this only made her smile more.

“Now, go apologize to Healer Matthews for being an arse,” she ordered.

“I’m not a child for you to order around, Granger,” he muttered.

“Sometimes, you act as one, so I do wonder.”

Draco glared before standing up. The brunette did the same, chuckling under her breath as he followed him, and Draco secretly allowed himself to smile a little. He felt loads comforted, but she did not need to know that. He suspected that she already knew it anyway, and he did not want to give the blasted witch some reason to inflate her ego.

Before opening the door, Draco took a new breath. Apologizing had never been his forte, but he had been admittedly an arse, and Healer Matthews was just being helpful. Scowling, and finally pushing the door open, Draco had wondered when did he become such a bleeding Hufflepuff?

He had merely took a single step, when he became firmly rooted on the spot. Hermione bumped against him, muttering a soft ‘ow’, before saying, “Why did you suddenly -”

Her words died down as she finally heard Rose’s tiny voice.

“ _Somewhere over the rainbow way up high.”_

The sight before him was a surprise. Healer Matthews was long gone, perhaps to attend to his other patients with more polite family members. His mother, to his utmost bewilderment, was sitting on a chair beside the window, eyes staring off somewhere in the distance. What surprised him the most, however, was the singing child sitting on her lap.

“ _Ther_ e’s _a land that I heard of once in a lullaby._ ”

Narcissa had a small smile on her face, absentmindedly running her hand through Rose’s curly red tresses.

“ _Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue_.”

He felt something stir in his heart, and Draco took a deep, shuddering breath once more.

“ _And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true_.”

“It’s Rose’s most favourite song,” Hermione whispered, walking to stand beside him. “I used to sing her that before she sleeps when things weren’t…”

She let her words falter, a small, sad smile on her face. At the same time, Rose looked up upon hearing her mother’s voice and jumped down from Narcissa’s lap.

“Mama, Mama, look, Cissa is up!” she exclaimed, excitedly running towards Hermione. Rose then proceeded to grasp the hem of Hermione’s sleeve. “Mama, can you give me a rose? Please please?”

“What for, sweetheart?” she asked, bending down to level her eyes with Rose.

Her daughter pointed at Narcissa. “It’s for Cissa,” she said. “She told me she likes roses the most.” She smiled widely, cheeks colouring in delight. “She said my name is pretty.”

“But of course, it is,” Hermione said, already pulling out her wand from her pocket. Then, she wordlessly conjured a red rose out of thin air and gave it to her daughter.

Rose cheerfully exclaimed her thanks, and then ran back towards the ill witch. She then proceeded to climb on her lap once more.

Draco had been silent during the whole ordeal, honestly at loss of what to say. He had forgotten that Narcissa reacted the same way when he brought Rose to the Manor before. To see his mother, smiling, made his heart hurt and he couldn’t help but look at the child with awe.

“Cissa, you shouldn’t be sad anymore,” Rose said, presenting the flower to Narcissa. “It makes Draco sad. And I don’t like to see him sad. I get sad, too.”

She pouted to prove her point, and Narcissa released a soft laugh that sounded like light, tinkering bells.

“You know my son?” she asked, tucking a tendril behind Rose’s ear.

“Yes!” Rose happily replied. “Me and Mama are staying with him. And he has a telly! I can watch cartoons any time I want, but Draco calls them kartowns.” She chuckled and played with Narcissa’s hair. “He likes Tornados, too! Unlike Theo.” She made a face, and then proceeded to recount all the adventures she had with Draco and Theo, and with her mother and Luna.

He had watched their exchange, tightness in his chest, and it was only when Hermione touched his cheek when he realized he had started to cry.

Blast it all, and he had been doing so well ever since they arrived in St. Mungo’s.

But then, looking at her mother and Rose interacting with each other, his emotions had overwhelmed him.

Draco impulsively grasped Hermione’s hand, surprising her, and then looked into her eyes. “Your daughter…” he sputtered, unable to quell his tears. “She’s…” He looked down at Rose once again and had never felt grateful in his life until today.

There were also tears in Hermione’s eyes as she squeezed his hand back. “I know,” she replied, discreetly wiping her tears away. “I know.”

* * *

“Can’t sleep?”

Draco’s hand stopped mid-air, the cookie he was grasping slipping noisily back onto the plate. He slowly looked behind him and saw Hermione with a small smile on her face, clad in her sleeping robe. She was clutching a glass of water in her right hand, then walked towards Draco and sat down beside him.

“No cookies after bedtime, remember?” she asked, humour in her voice, prompting Draco to roll his eyes.

“Uh oh, you’ve caught me. Will you order me to go to my bedroom too?” he snarkily asked, but Hermione merely chuckled and indulged herself with one of the scrumptious snack.

Draco gave her a sideways glance before grasping his half-eaten cookie. “Why are you still up?” he inquired.

“Rose kicked me in her sleep,” she said, chuckling. “I woke up and couldn’t fall asleep anymore. You?”

The blond merely shrugged and silently munched on his cookie.

“You should sleep. It’s been a long day, Draco.”

He sighed. Indeed, it had been, but sleep had been elusively avoiding him tonight. “I tried,” he confessed. “It was futile.”

“A lot of things on your mind?” she asked, already helping herself with her second cookie.

There had always been a lot on his mind. His mother, the Malfoy business, Rose, _her_ … Draco lightly blushed and hid his face away from her prying eyes.

It still embarrassed him that he broke down in front of her, _again_ , back in his mother’s hospital room. Hermione had not said anything ever since, and Draco wondered if the brunette would rub this off in his face anytime soon.

“Draco,” she called.

“Yeah?”

“Err… I know this is not the right time to say this, but…” She paused and waited. Draco finally turned to look at her, but her eyes were filled with sadness and apology and an emotion he could not recognize. “I plan on going home with Rose three days from now.”

Draco felt his heart drop onto his stomach and scowled. She was right; it wasn’t the right time to say it.

“Mrs. Figg already returned to the country and she could take care of Rose while I’m gone,” she hastily explained. “Speaking of which, Harry already gave the go signal for me to return to work and I’m really, _utterly_ swamped with work I just had to go back.”

“You have been gracious for letting us stay here,” she continued, cheeks slightly tinged with pink. “I… I’m grateful for what you’d done in the past weeks for Rose and me, but I think we have stayed too long. I am well after all.”

“Can’t you stay?” he blurted out before he could stop his stupid, stupid mouth.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “What?” she asked, almost breathless.

Draco had the urge to smack his mouth for betraying him once more. He realized too late it sometimes had a mind of his own when he talked with Hermione Granger.

“Nothing,” he said, refusing to look into her eyes. To his surprise, Hermione placed her warm, small hand atop his own.

“Don’t worry, you’re welcome to drop by any time,” she reassured, the corner of her lips quirking up into a smile. “And, well, you know how demanding my work could be and seeing that all you do is sit behind your desk and read endless paperwork, I can always ask you to take care of Rose sometimes.”

He scowled. “Who said I’d allow that?” he growled, hyperaware of how warm her hand was.

Hermione chuckled and stood up from her stool. “Get some sleep, Draco,” she said. And then, she proceeded to walk towards her bedroom. It was only when he heard her room click shut when his scowl slipped away, replaced by a frown which he denied had to do with Granger and Rose’s approaching departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so quick trivia. The "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" scene was inspired by the movie "Blended". Ya know, the one with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler? If you are a sucker for cute, family-centered movies like me, you should really give that movie a try.


	11. The Last Day

“How’s your mother?” Hermione asked, as she strolled into his study uninvited, with a cup of steaming coffee for him.

Draco looked up from the reports he was reading and gratefully took a sip from the black liquid. He silently watched as Hermione comfortably stretched onto the couch opposite him and waited for his answer.

Normally, he would have snapped at anyone who intruded his personal room. Even Theo knew he shouldn’t drop off into his room at any time he liked. True, he’d snarled at her and her daughter most of the time when they came barging in without his permission. But seeing Hermione here in his study, comfortably seated on his couch, made his stomach oddly flip with dangerous thoughts he desperately pushed aside.

“She’s been discharged from St. Mungo’s last night,” he finally said, which also explained why he disappeared before having dinner with the mother and daughter. “Healer Matthews already gave me a set of new instructions, which I relayed to her house-elves.”

When she still expectantly looked at him, he sighed and said, “Yes, yes, I apologized to Healer Matthews.” She gave him a pretty smile of approval, prompting him to roll his eyes. “Must you always be so pushy, Granger?”

She casually shrugged and absentmindedly brushed her curls away. “Anyway, do you have anything urgent to finish tonight?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “As of now, none,” he slowly replied. “May I ask why you are asking my schedule?”

“Rose and I will be leaving tomorrow,” she reminded, prompting him to scowl. “And, well, I just thought maybe you’d want to get out of your flat for a while and roam around with Rose and me.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “And where do you plan on bringing me?” he inquired.

A strange smile appeared on her face. “Now, where’s the surprise in that?” she vaguely answered. He still looked highly distrustful. “Come on, Draco, you’ve been cooped up inside for days! I think all you need is some fresh air and may perhaps help you with your mood swings.”

“I don’t like going outside,” he said, scowling at her jesting. “Anyway, I’ve changed my mind and declaring myself busy for the whole day.” He made some shooing motions at her general direction. “Now go, before you make me kick you out.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and resolutely shook her head. “I’m not leaving until you promise to come with us later,” she said, eyes glinting with sheer stubbornness that was very her.

Draco knew he didn’t really have any choice, but refused to back down just yet. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to the brunette. “And what, pray tell, are you going to do to make me?” he asked in a deep, low voice.

“Is that a challenge, Malfoy?” she bit back, mirroring his expression by raising her own eyebrow. “I think you’re quite forgetting that I’m a major bossy know-it-all, yeah?” Then, with a speed of light, her wand was at hand and his hair had turned into a brilliant shade of green with red spots all over.

Mortified, as he saw his reflection in the mirror behind Hermione, Draco threw daggers at the chuckling brunette. “What the fuck, Granger!” he growled, grabbing his own wand to retaliate, but Hermione had already put up some barriers to shield herself from whatever spell he would hurtle towards her.

“It’s a handy spell taught to me by the Weasley twins and it’s a fairly new one,” she explained, eyeing his shocking hair with mirth. “Meaning, only a selected few know the counterspell.”

Draco made a feeble attempt to _Finite_ the spell, but it didn’t wear off.

“I suggest you promise to come with us to save your glorious hair,” she said, before gracefully slipping out of his study.

“GRANGER, COME BACK HERE!”

* * *

“Why is your hair funny, Draco?”

A muscle in his eye twitched when Rose’s mother snorted behind her hand. Rose questioningly looked at Hermione, who merely shrugged her shoulder. The child, eyes glinting in amusement, shifted back onto him and waited for his answer.

“Ask your bloody mother,” he growled, glaring at said brunette. Hermione merely smirked and it irked him how it was _nearly_ perfect, even rivalling his own. Internally, he wondered if he was rubbing off of Granger. Strangely, that thought made him all warm and fuzzy, but he was supposed to be mad at her right now, so he pushed that other, strange feeling away.

“Shh, no bad words, Draco,” Hermione calmly said, smirk still in place. “We don’t want Rose picking up bad habits now, do we?”

This made him narrow his eyes more as he gestured to his hair wildly. “If you think jinxing people to have bright green hair with red polka dots is a bloody good habit for your daughter to pick up on, then you’re sorely mistaken,” he spat back.

Hermione merely chuckled and shook her head. Then, she turned to her daughter, “Are you excited for today, Rosie?”

“Yes!” the child exclaimed happily, and Draco was still utterly curious as to what this mother-daughter duo were planning for today. “I can’t wait to ride the carousel, and eat cotton candy, and win a teddy bear, and…”

As Rose kept on yammering about what she couldn’t wait to do for the day, Draco’s eyes slowly narrowed into thin slits. Judging from Rose’s excitement, he couldn’t shake off the feeling today’s going to be one of his worst days.

“Where are you taking me?” he hissed under his breath for only Hermione to hear.

The brunette had a wicked grin on her face. “Promise you’ll be good?” she asked as she slowly pulled out her wand from her right sleeve. Draco eyed the magical stick with distrust, prompting Hermione to chuckle. “If you promise to be good, I’ll magic your glorious blond hair back on your pretty face.”

Draco petulantly glowered and crossed his arms. He didn’t trust himself to retort anything back, even though a myriad of witty slurs sat at the tip of his tongue.

Hermione Granger was a bloody menace. He doubted she would leave him alone with a mere ridiculous hair if he protested more.

Her eyes glinted with mischief and he finally scowled.

As if he had a bloody choice in the first place, that witch.

* * *

He eyed himself in front of his full length mirror, glorious blond hair already back in place, and noting in distaste how the Muggle clothing Granger called as ‘denim pants’ restricted his movements. Thankfully, Hermione had chucked a simple black jumper for him to wear. Although he usually wore Wizarding clothes, even at home, he still couldn’t deny the comfort these Muggle jumpers brought him.

The pants were a whole different story, but he figured they were going somewhere Muggle, so he had to ditch the wizard robes in order to blend in.

“Draco, come on,” Hermione’s muffled voice called from outside, prompting him to scowl.

“Remind me why I’m going with them again,” he muttered at Tippy, who was looking at his master with starry eyes. Apparently, it was also such a rare occurrence to see the Malfoy heir looking positively Muggle and Tippy was delighted.

“Master Draco cares for Miss Hermione and Little Miss Rosie,” Tippy proudly stated, puffing out his chest as if he won a prize.

Draco’s scowl darkened and opted not to answer back. He knew no amount of protest would refute his house-elf’s claim after all. Instead, he said, “Take care of whatever business ordeals come up. Tell them some _emergency_ arose and I’ll be out for the day.”

“Yes, Master Draco,” Tippy said with a deep bow, and then proceeded to apparate away from Draco’s bedroom.

After one last look at his reflection, Draco finally walked out of his room.

“Finally!” Rose exclaimed. She was wearing Muggle overalls, her bushy, red hair held away from her face in pigtails, and she was carrying this weird, violet backpack with creepy eyes and mouth. Rose then held his hand and pulled him. “Come on, Draco!”

“All right, all right, Merlin,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Her mother chuckled in amusement, prompting him to glare at her general direction. Granger was wearing the same Muggle denim pants paired with a flattering blouse that brought out her curves. Draco had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes once more, thinking it was bloody unfair Granger managed to look attractive and irritating at the same time. It made his feelings confused.

“Oh, Malfoy, I’m sure you’ll have fun,” she said, rummaging inside her small purse to check that everything was inside.

“You still haven’t answered me where we’re going,” he pointed out.

“Happy Land!” Rose exclaimed.

His eyes widened into saucers. “ _What_?” he spat out, suddenly feeling dreadful.

Granger had that ridiculous grin on her face once more. “You heard Rosie, Draco,” she said. “We’re going to Happy Land.”

* * *

Whoever named this place as ‘Happy Land’ must be fucking insane.

Draco’s eyes hadn’t returned back to their normal size ever since Hermione side-along apparated him and Rose to what Muggles fondly called as an _‘Amusement Park’_. There were loud screams from a Muggle contraption that looped through different courses and Draco swore it wasn’t bloody safe. There were other weird machines, _rides_ as what Rose pointed out, where people were either screaming their lungs out or ridiculously laughing at those who were screaming their lungs out. He even spied a Muggle puking in one of the bushes and scrunched his nose in disgust.

“More like Horror Land,” he muttered under his breath. Hermione had heard him and couldn’t suppress her grin any longer.

“It isn’t too bad,” she reassured, absentmindedly gripping an overly-excited Rose by the arm. “Once you tried the rides, you’ll understand why this place is named as such, as ridiculous as it sounds.”

Draco saw a huge wheel going around and around, mentally calculating that the peak was about several feet tall. It wouldn’t take some genius to know that he would plummet to his death if ever he fell from it.

“You don’t even like heights,” he shot back with a frown. He had cajoled her before, to humour him by riding a broom and playing Quidditch with him, but Hermione had firmly refused and kept her feet on the ground.

“Well, _yeah_ ,” she said. She then pointed at the huge wheel he had been eyeing before. “I don’t particularly like riding ferris wheels. They’re _impossibly_ slow and I always had this irrational fear I’d get stuck at the very top. But the other rides aren’t so bad. They have seatbelts after all, so they’re safe to ride.”

He looked at her as if she was mental. “They do not have _magic_ ,” he retorted back. “I don’t think they’re safe.”

“Mama,” Rose whined. “Carousel!”

“All right, all right,” Hermione said with a laugh as she lifted Rose into her arms. She then looked back at Draco with a smile. “Come. We’ll start with the safest ride in this whole place.”

* * *

Although undeniably safe, Draco swore he would never ride a carousel anymore.

The horses were ridiculous, too colourful for his own liking, but Rose insisted he must ride the horse that was beside hers. Hermione warned him Rose could always throw a monumental tantrum, and she was always extra _spiteful_ when in front of a crowd.

_‘Very much a Weasley,’_ Draco thought with a sneer, flashbacks of red-faced Ronald Weasley throwing a temper every time things did not go his way.

He was the only adult man to ride the carousel, and he couldn’t suppress the blush on his face when the other adult people who weren’t on the carousel were cooing at him. He even heard one of the mothers commenting he was adorable for accompanying Rose and he couldn’t accept that.

Draco could be described with a myriad of words but he was most abso-bloody-lutely not _adorable_.

What was worse were the swarming little children running around the carousel, despite continuously moving. One little girl even fell onto her face as she went off-balance and had cried shitlessly for minutes. As the _only_ adult on the carousel, Draco had no choice but to console the girl until the ride stopped and she was able to be reunited with her parents.

Rose insisted for another round, and before he could protest, Draco found himself cramped on top of another puny horse and endured the mortification for another few minutes.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Hermione said as soon as they stepped off the platform.

“Sod off, Granger,” he growled cheeks still too warm from embarrassment and annoyance. The mothers were still eyeing him with appreciation and all Draco wanted was to get away from here.

“Rollercoaster!” Rose then said, as she grabbed each of Draco’s and Hermione’s hand with a grin. “Let’s all ride the rollercoaster.”

“Please tell me there won’t be any creepy, inanimate animals involved,” Draco grumbled under his breath.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “Oh, trust me, there won’t be any.”

* * *

The rollercoaster ride was marginally better… oh, _who_ was he kidding? It was bloody magnificent and Draco didn’t even protest when Rose requested for another round. It was particularly smaller than the roller coaster he had eyed a while ago, seeing that Rose was too young to ride the legit one, but Draco still had so much fun.

It was the closest thing to a broomstick ride and Draco couldn’t help but to delightfully laugh when they swiveled to and fro, looped around and around, and mock Granger who was slowly turning green from all the turning.

Rose undoubtedly inherited Weasley’s thirst for adventure and exhilaration and Draco couldn’t help but think she would make a good Quidditch player in the future. Mentally, he prayed to whomever could hear him that she would be sorted into Slytherin, her parents be damned, because she would be a bloody good asset for the team.

“I see someone had a lot of fun,” Hermione commented, still looking positively green.

“What’s the matter, Granger?” he asked with cheeky grin. “Aren’t you having fun?”

Rose looked worriedly at her mother, prompting Hermione to glare at Draco. “You’re not, Mama?” her daughter asked, a small pout slowly growing on her face.

“Yes, I am having fun, Rose, don’t listen to Draco,” she said, still glare in place. “Your mother just needs to rest a bit, yes? Why don’t you go buy some cotton candy first and we’ll ride another one after you finished it.”

The little girl’s eyes lit up in excitement, accepted the muggle coins from her mother, and ran to the nearest cotton candy stand to buy her treat. Hermione opted to sit on the bench nearest to her daughter, and Draco followed suit.

“Green suits you, Granger,” he commented with a smirk.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” she growled, tilting her head downward and massaging the bridge of her nose. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

His smirk slightly fell. “Do you need something?” he asked, slight worry heard in his voice.

“Water, perhaps,” she said as she fished some coins from her purse once more. “You can buy one on that hotdog stand. I think I saw them selling water a while ago.”

Draco nodded and grabbed the coins from her hand. He strode closer to the hotdog stand, feeling slightly apprehensive, but then schooled his features as soon as he faced the vendor. He was a grumpy, overweight man, with balding hair. The top of his head was too shiny and Draco had to shield his eyes, else they would be blinded by the sheer shininess of his head. The middle-aged man was wearing an apron that was impossibly small for his body size and had eyed him distastefully as soon as he arrived.

The blond stared at him for a while, feeling ridiculously nervous, when the man finally frowned and snapped, “Are you ordering or what?”

“Right, yes,” Draco said, schooling his features and clearing his throat. “I’m here to buy some of your water bottles.”

The man glared, then fished out a water bottle from a small box and handed it to him. Draco was amazed how it stayed cold despite being kept in a box without magic.

"That would be 20 pence,” he mumbled.

Draco eyed the coins on his hand, unfamiliar with muggle currency, before shoving the coins on the counter. The vendor eyed the coins on his counter, then at Draco, before scowling and rolling his eyes. He then proceeded to return at least five coins to Draco before hollering a loud ‘Next’ to the customer behind him.

_‘Rude,’_ Draco thought and returned to where Hermione was sitting. Rose was already there, happily eating her pink cotton candy. Thankfully, Hermione didn’t look green anymore as she gratefully accepted the bottle of water and her change.

“Thanks,” she said when Draco sat beside her. To her daughter, she asked, “Where do you want to go next, Rosie?”

“Ferris wheel?” Rose hopefully asked eyes wide and bright with pleading.

“Oh no,” Hermione said, slightly shaking her head. Rose sheepishly smiled and deflated, but completely understood her mother’s irrational fear of heights.

A wild glint appeared in Draco’s eyes. “Oh yes,” he said, the infamous Malfoy smirk growing on his face.

Hermione glared. “No, Malfoy,” she said. “I told you I don’t like riding ferris wheels.”

“You forced me to ride on that bloody  _carousel_ , Granger,” he said, not willing to back down. “Now it’s time for me to force you to ride the ferris wheel.”

“That’s different,” she protested. “Carousels are _safe_.”

“Blimey, Granger,” he said. “If something happens, I can just magic us away to a safe place.”

Hermione was steadily growing paler, but Draco didn’t want to back down now. After all, he was also quite curious why this certain attraction had the longest line in this whole amusement park.

“Please, Mama,” Rose pleaded with a smile. “Draco will keep us safe, he promises. Right, Draco?”

Draco’s smirk had widened when he could see the defeated look on Hermione’s face. “I promise,” he said.

If looks could kill right now, he would have died thrice if it was physically possible.

* * *

Hermione had been muttering under her breath until they were gestured to occupy one of the empty slots of the ferris wheel. Draco couldn’t figure out if they were curses or prayers; all he could understand was that Hermione Granger was definitely, truly, _absolutely_ terrified of the ferris wheel. He had constantly reassured her that he wouldn’t allow anything to happen, seeing that she would most likely freeze up when an accident arose. Even Rose was trying to reassure her mother, but Granger was inconsolable, and Draco Malfoy was amused.

As the ferris wheel started to move, he eyed her hand that was gripping too tightly on the railing of the ride. “Granger, really, I’m sure this wouldn’t be so bad,” he reassured, shooting a quick glance at her worried daughter. “Blimey, you’ve faced off one of the darkest wizards in the history of mankind. You’ll live, I promise you.”

“I hate you,” she merely replied through gritted teeth, prompting him to smirk and for Rose to look horrified.

“Are you fighting?” Rose asked, a tad panicked, as her eyes darted from her mother and the blond. “Please don’t fight, Mama and Draco. We’ll get off soon, Mama. Please don’t be mad at Draco. It was my fault because I wanted to ride the ferris wheel.”

Rose looked dejected, and Hermione deflated a little. With a shaky, pale hand, the older witch held Rose’s hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “Sweetheart, it isn’t your fault,” she consoled. “Mama’s just scared a little.”

He snorted at her ‘a little’, knowing that Granger was merely sugarcoating her words, but it worked. Rose smiled a little before reaching for his hand with her free hand. “Come on, Draco,” she coaxed. “Hold Mama’s other hand so she won’t be scared anymore.”

Draco frowned at her request whilst Hermione grew slightly pink. “It’s okay, Rosie,” Hermione reassured. “I can just hold onto the railing.”

“No, no,” the little girl protested and shook her head. Her curls wildly whipped against her stubborn face. “You must hold her hand so she won’t be afraid anymore.”

He sighed and held out his free hand. “As if I have any choice,” he told Granger. “Your daughter is a bloody menace, Granger. I won’t be surprised if she’d managed to copy the spell you did on my hair with just her sheer stubbornness.”

Hermione managed to quirk a smile and immediately grasped his proffered hand. He noted that her hand was small, clammy and cold, but it fitted perfectly in his and it made his stomach feel funny. “Blimey, Granger!” he exclaimed with a shout, as Hermione’s hold on him tightened with their continued ascent. It was a fairly windy day, so their carriage kept on lightly rocking to and fro, and it didn’t help Hermione’s terror.

They were nearing the peak and Draco knew he had to do this. Her fear of heights was too irrational, and he knew it would help her if she finally faced it.

Now, years and years of being under Voldemort’s command made him learn a lot of things, and one of it was wandless magic. It was definitely a perk, especially on torture sessions and he was forced to watch at the sides. Draco would always mutter under his breath, a small numbing spell here and there, towards one of the tortured souls. The Death Eaters never figured out why they all died without screaming anymore, blank looks on their faces.

They were finally on top of the whole amusement park and Draco muttered a soft ‘ _Immobulus’_ under his breath. The ferris wheel instantly stopped moving, their carriage precariously shaking, and Hermione freaked out. Her grip on his hand had tightened and judging from the way Rose was grimacing, he figured that the child was also suffering the same fate.

“It’s all right,” he reassured, equally gripping her hand tight to relay comfort. “We’re all right. We’re safe.”

She had her eyes closed, terrified beyond her wits, and Draco sighed.

“Come on, Granger, open your eyes,” he cajoled. “The view is breathtaking and you’re missing a lot.”

She managed to release a soft ‘no’, eyes still tightly closed.

Sighing once more, Draco scooted closer until he was pressed against Hermione’s back. The brunette made annoyed and frightened noises when his movements made the carriage swing once more, but Draco ignored them.

“Look, Granger, you can actually see the city from here,” he said, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from her right ear.  “It’s beautiful.”

And it was. Draco never understood Theo’s strange fascination with the Muggle World, always claiming that they were actually quite bright and the bigoted Purebloods were biased. Their technology was astounding, and since it was already nearing night, lights scattered around and it looked like stars in the night sky.

“Dammit, Granger, just open your bloody eyes,” he growled. “Where the hell is your Gryffindor bravery?”

He had to hold back a grin when he felt her stiffen against his arms. One thing he understood during his Hogwarts days was to never, _ever_ question a Gryffindor and his or her damn bravery. He thought Granger was above this ridiculous cajoling, but apparently not, for she was now glaring darkly at him.

“Shut up, you slimy ferret,” she mumbled, disregarding the fact that her daughter was watching.

Draco smirked, and held her head to turn it around. As soon as she was facing forward, Hermione had tightly closed her eyes once more.

“Come on, Granger, just a peek,” he said.

She was tensed against his arms and Draco silently prayed she would finally relent. It was damn cold at the top, the night was already approaching, and Rose looked tired. It was only when he heard Hermione gasp when he finally let his smirk turn into a smile.

“It’s… it’s beautiful,” she said, almost sounding breathlessly.

“It is, Mama!” Rose exclaimed, delighted that her mother was looking outside.

Draco silently _Finite-d_ his spell and the whole ride started to move once more. It made him proud that Hermione was actually surprised they finally reached the ground and out of their carriage.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Draco asked with that cheeky grin.

Realization dawned on Hermione’s face and she mustered the darkest glare she could. “You charmed the ferris wheel so that we’ll get stuck on top, did you?” she accused.

“I am neither confirming nor denying your accusation, Miss Granger,” he drawled, knowing fully well the smile on his face was a dead giveaway.

“I hate you, Malfoy,” she grounded out once more.

“No, she doesn’t, Draco!” Rose cried.

The blond chuckled and shook his head. “No, you don’t, Granger,” he repeated, prompting Hermione to harrumph in annoyance and turn away. Draco grinned down at Rose, who returned his smile. He didn’t even protest when Rose grasped his hand with her tiny one and followed her huffing mother.

* * *

Suffice it to say, it was the best day Rose ever had in her whole six years of living. It had been a while ever since they visited Happy Land; the last time was when she just turned four years old. Uncle Harry had accompanied both her and her Mama, and Rose remembered having a lot of fun, too. Funny, she thought, for she had too much fun today, and maybe it was all thanks to Draco.

Rose released a soft yawn and stretched her arms. She was tired from all the excitement and she wanted to go to sleep. Pattering barefoot into the living room, she was about to call for her mother to bed, but stopped when she saw the image before her eyes.

Hermione was fast asleep, her head leaning against Draco’s shoulder. Said blond had his finger against his lips to signal for her to keep silent, and Rose wordlessly grinned and nodded her head.

A sudden thought came into mind and she ran towards Draco as noiselessly as possible. She clambered onto the couch on his other side and happily leaned against him.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a whisper, frowning at her messy mop of hair.

“Can I sleep here, too, Draco?” she asked with a pretty smile. “Mama looks too tired to sleep in our room, and I don’t want to sleep alone.”

To her delight, Draco sighed and muttered something under his breath. At the same time, his fireplace roared into life and Rose marginally felt warmer and happier.

“Go to sleep, Rose,” he ordered, and she happily nodded her head and closed her eyes.

This was steadily becoming the best day she ever had. Her mother also had fun, much to her delight. She remembered how Uncle Harry also cajoled her mother to ride the ferris wheel, but she never relented. Today was a pleasant surprise, and Rose couldn’t help but think it was all Draco’s doing.

It was official. She likes Draco a lot now, and she prayed to Merlin or whomever could hear her that she and her mother would live with him for the rest of their lives.

* * *

She was jerked awake when she couldn’t feel any sensations to her right arm. Scowling, Hermione sat up straight and shook her dead arm to let the blood circulate once more. She half-expected to see Rose curled against her side, but was surprised to see that she was still in Draco’s living room.

' _I must have fallen asleep,’_ she thought with a smile. It was a tiring day after all, what with her facing her fears and chasing after Rose. It really shouldn’t have surprised her she fell asleep almost immediately.

A soft snore from beside her made her flinch in surprise. Eyes widening, she looked beside her and saw a sleeping Draco, mouth slightly agape, and felt her cheeks grow warmer. She didn’t notice she was sleeping against him, and hoped he wouldn’t give her hell for making him a human pillow once he woke up.

A small smile appeared on her face as she remembered their small adventure in Happy Land. It was undoubtedly Draco Malfoy’s fault why their ferris wheel carriage got stuck on top for minutes, urging her to look at the beautiful view and quash away her ridiculous, irrational fear. Although she had wanted to murder him right on that spot, Hermione actually felt grateful for what he did. It had thoroughly surprised her, too, how he was able to cajole her to do such a thing when Harry and Ron were never able to force her to face her fear of heights.

Hermione blinked in surprise when a mop of red, bushy hair peeked out from Draco’s other side. Leaning closely, she peered and saw her daughter sleeping soundly against Draco. Rose looked contented and it made her heart warm a little bit.

Rose would be crushed when she discovered they would be leaving Draco’s flat tomorrow. After a few weeks of staying here, Hermione knew her daughter liked Draco and the blond actually had come to care for her daughter in return.

It was… it was a _sweet_ view, the image they were portraying, and an unbidden image of the three of them, as a happy family, came into mind.

_‘Whoa there Hermione,’_ a little voice inside her head reprimanded.

Eyes widening, she realized where her thoughts were taking her. She shook her head to get rid of such ridiculous notions from her mind. They were going to leave tomorrow, and she shouldn’t really think of such things anymore.

Sighing, Hermione stood up and summoned Draco’s blanket from his room. It came hurtling towards her and she leaned down. The blanket smelled faintly of Draco, and it made her throat dry. Shaking her head once more to rid of dangerous thoughts, Hermione finally tucked her daughter and the blond inside. Both Draco and Rose sighed in their sleep, huddling deeper into the blanket, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile.

Although the notion was ridiculous, they undeniably painted a pretty picture. Hermione unwittingly thought it wouldn’t be so bad if she included herself, too.

At least just for tonight.

 


	12. The Silence

Hermione Granger had been a mother for six years, but she still could not prepare herself every time her daughter would throw a tantrum.

Today was exceptionally exhausting, especially because Rose looked like she was inconsolable. Her bushy, red hair was messier than ever and ugly fat tears streamed down her big, blue eyes. Hermione had to bite back a smile when she spotted snot streaming out from her nose, too.

“Oh, Rosie,” she said, trying to gather the child into her arms, but Rose dodged away from her and plopped down on the carpeted floor. Hermione felt a little sorry it had to be this way, but they had been intruding far too long in Draco Malfoy’s flat and abusing his surprising kindness. She was, after all, completely cured from the dark curse Lestrange inflicted on her and Mrs. Figg was back in the country. She knew it was already time for them to go home to their flat and continue on with their lives.

“W-why do we have to leave, M-Mama?” Rose whined. Hermione expelled a soft sigh when the windows in their bedroom rattled from Rose’s tumultuous feelings. “I-I don’t want to go.”

“Rose…” Hermione said, crouching down on the floor to level her eyes with her daughter. “We have to go home. Draco is busy with his own life, and we can’t intrude further.”

“I-I don’t want to go,” her daughter cried and proceeded to flop face down on the floor.

The brunette could feel a headache forming, but she knew she couldn’t back down just yet. Once more, she cursed her genes and Ron’s for producing such a stubborn, delightful, beautiful child. Hermione knew it was for the best if she broke the news to her daughter at a very early time of the day; she suspected they wouldn’t be able to leave until nighttime.

A soft pop resounded in their room and a dejected Tippy appeared. His ears were droopy today, the tips almost touching the floor, and Hermione sadly smiled. She knew the house-elf had come to love her daughter; they were almost inseparable and Tippy would also be very sad when Rose was gone.

“T-Tippy has packed all your clothes, Miss Hermione,” he said, followed by a loud sniff and a tear down his eyes. He sadly looked at the still crying Rose, his bottom lip quivering with emotions. “Tippy wishes you both the best, Miss Hermione, Little Miss Rosie.”

His voice had cracked upon saying Rose’s name, and immediately apparated away without being dismissed. Hermione thought she heard a loud wail somewhere in the humongous flat and sighed once more.

“We’ll be leaving later tonight, Rose,” Hermione said. “We still have a few hours for you to spend time with Draco.”

Her wails grew louder when she mentioned the blond’s name.

For the umpteenth time, Hermione sighed.

This would be a long day.

* * *

“Where’s Rose?”

“She didn’t want to leave the room,” Hermione said as she plopped down on the vacant chair beside him. The aroma of their lunch tickled her nose and her stomach softly grumbled in anticipation. One thing she would miss in Draco’s flat was Tippy’s cooking. She could cook decently, and even Mrs. Figg could whip up a wicked shepherd’s pie, but they still all paled in comparison to Tippy’s cooking.

A small smirk appeared on his face. “Still throwing a tantrum?” he asked.

She groaned and dug in. “Motherhood is hard,” she said with a sigh. “This just makes me miss my mother all the more.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?” he offered.

Hermione looked contemplative for a while, before slowly nodding her head. “You know what? I think that’s a good idea,” she said, followed by a sigh. “After all these years…” She let her words falter as she shook her head. It was sad, really, for she somehow knew the answers to all things magical. If not, she could still research about them in her beloved books, and she would instantly get an answer, no matter how long the journey took. But _motherhood_ … There was no clear protocol on how to become one, and it had frustrated her so. Knowledge alone would not suffice, and Hermione knew that. It was something she had feared ever since Rose came into her life, and she didn’t want to mess up.

“Stop thinking,” Draco said with a roll of his eyes. “She’s a child and she doesn’t want to go. Of course she’ll throw a tantrum. You’re not doing anything wrong, Granger.”

Unwittingly, she gave him a small smile. Lately, Draco had brought great comfort upon her and even her daughter. If people had told her ages before she would find herself in this situation with the blond, she would have marked them mental.

“I must warn you, though,” Hermione said as Draco stood up from his chair. “Rose is inconsolable.”

He waved her off flippantly, prompting her to raise an eyebrow. She then wordlessly watched as he padded into their bedroom.

Somehow, Hermione couldn’t shake off the feeling Draco would be able to successfully drag Rose out of the room.

* * *

He spotted a small grieving mound at the center of the vast bed, and Draco sighed.

“Rose,” he said. “Stop this. You have to eat lunch.”

The mound wriggled a bit, and he distinctively heard a sniff, but Rose was still out of sight.

“I’m not hungry,” a tiny voice claimed, followed by a soft rumbling that very much disputed her words.

“Yes you are, you menace,” Draco drawled, strolling closer and sitting at the foot of the bed. “Tippy made your favorite dessert, chocolate cake, and you won’t be able to eat it if you don’t take your lunch.”

Silence followed his words, and then, “I don’t like chocolate cake.”

There was clear hesitation in the tone of her voice, and Draco smirked. Rose was bloody easy to manipulate; Hermione was too much of a Gryffindor to even know how to bribe a child. “Sure you do,” he said. “Tippy placed extra frosting on the top because he knows you liked it that way.”

He heard another small sniff and patiently waited until her mop of red, bushy hair finally popped out from her blanket. “Did he… did he put frosting flowers, too?” she softly asked.

“Of course,” he smoothly said. “They are red in color since it’s your favorite.”

Draco watched as Rose turned contemplative, conflicting emotions flashing through her face. He noted how red her eyes and nose were, with tear tracks still staining her cheeks. She was clearly devastated she and Hermione would be leaving his home today, and it made his heart feel strange things.

“Okay,” she finally said, slowly entangling herself out from her bedsheets. “But I still don’t want to go.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “Your mother perfectly told you that you have to go home with her. Your Aunt Figgy can already take care of you and your mother can finally go back and work with your Uncle Harry.”

Fresh tears welled up from her eyes again, but thankfully, she didn’t throw another huge tantrum. “I don’t want to go, Draco,” she said, her bottom lip quivering. “I-I like it here. Can’t we just stay here, Mama and me?”

Draco sighed and reached out for the six-year-old. Rose immediately buried her face against his abdomen and softly cried, while he rubbed her back to try to console her. “Let me tell you something I have learned ever since I was young,” he said. “You can’t always get what you want, Rose.”

He could already feel her tears soaking through his shirt.

“Your mother is worried so I think it’s best if you get out of this room now and eat your lunch,” he urged. “Tippy’s chocolate cake will go to waste and you know how emotional he could get.”

To his utmost relief, Rose finally gave the smallest of nods and allowed Draco to pull her out of the bedroom. He kept her small hand enclosed in his, partly because he was a little afraid she’d change her mind and go back to being a sad mound on her bed.

When Hermione saw him with the devastated child, she didn’t even look surprised he managed to get Rose out.

“Oh, Rose,” she breathed out, mostly in relief. Rose broke away from Draco and crawled onto her mother’s lap, tears still in her eyes. “It’s not as if you won’t be seeing Draco anymore. We can always invite him over for dinner at home, and you can watch your favorite cartoons with him.”

Her tears had abated, eyes wide and staring at her mother. “We can?” she asked.

“Of course,” her mother replied. She then looked at Draco, slight hesitation on her features. “If Draco wants to come over.”

He stiffly nodded his head, knowing he didn’t really have any choice, and Hermione gratefully smiled at him.

Rose looked marginally better now and told her mother she was hungry. As the child wolfed down her meal (since throwing a tantrum had hungered her so), Hermione looked back at Draco and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him. Draco once again merely nodded his head, prompting her to smile widely at him.

Inside, he thought, he would miss seeing the mother and daughter every day, in his home.

* * *

“Gods, Granger, if you plan on leaving, go,” Draco snarled in exasperation as he threw daggers at the smiling brunette. “Why are you even bothering me? I told you I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not,” she shot back. “You’ve been staring at page one ever since I came in to talk to you.”

He hated himself for blushing at her comment. Scowling, he chucked the stupid papers away and crossed his arms. “What do you want?” he finally demanded. “You’ve already said your goodbye.”

She had this sad little smile on her face and he just could not understand it. “Rose is still taking her time saying goodbye to Tippy,” she explained. “You know how attached they got and, _well_ , your house-elf is also inconsolable.” Hermione laughed and shook her head. “Merlin, it’s as if they both seriously think they won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

Draco, not really knowing what to answer, merely shrugged his shoulders.

“Well… I know I’ve said it a thousand times already, and you sure as hell think I’m already too irritating for my own good, but I would just like to say thank you for everything you’ve done for us, especially to Rose.”

“Ugh, Granger, yes yes,” he said, expelling a soft sigh. “Maybe I’ll see you in the streets with Rose or something. Not that I’m planning to get out often. I told you, I’m a busy person. I’m quite sure I’ll be required to go abroad more than roam around Diagon Alley or any magical streets in London for that matter.” He conveniently left the fact that now that he had no reason to go out and show his Death Eater face, Draco knew he’d be holed up in his flat until it was really necessary for him to venture out.

Granger gave him a strange expression. “I meant what I said a while ago,” she said. “You’re welcome to visit us in our flat.”

“I’ve never been to your flat,” he pointed out.

“And?”

A slow frown formed on his face. “You’re allowing me to step into your flat?” he asked, highly skeptical.

Hermione guffawed. “Blimey, why do you still think I don’t trust you at all?” she inquired with great humor. “Draco, you took care of Rose while I was away and she’s happy and healthy. I don’t think your presence in her life is a bad thing at all.”

It was unspoken how she wanted him to continue meeting her daughter, but Draco completely understood her and he was confused.

“I… well… there isn’t any good reason for me to visit,” he lamely replied.

“Visiting Rose is a good enough reason,” she said.

Draco still looked skeptical. “Why are you doing this, Granger?”

“What do you mean?” Her eyebrows had knitted together in deep confusion and Draco sighed.

“I know you asked me to take care of Rose as a huge favor while you ran off to catch your husband’s murderer,” he expounded. “Now that you’re here and well, my job is done.”

Hermione released a humongous sigh, a pretty smile on her face. “Rose has taken a shine on you, if you must know,” she said. “And you know how she throws monumental, hissy fits that is classic Ron, so if she found out she couldn’t see you anymore, all hell will break lose. And besides, you’ve been a magnificent babysitter. I already have a go-to person when things got a little hectic at work and Mrs. Figg couldn’t take care of Rose.”

“So, in short, I’m indispensable,” he drawled with a roll of his eyes. “I didn’t take you as a user, Granger.”

“Godric, you’re still so annoying,” she exclaimed with exasperation. “I just want to invite you to have some dinners in my place and continue bonding with Rose. What is it with you and ulterior motives? Treat this as an invite from a friend to a friend.”

He frowned, still highly skeptical. “Fine,” he said with a sigh.

“Great,” she said, standing up from her seat. “Expect to be invited very soon for dinner already. Rose will be relentless and I predict she’d want to see you soon.”

He sighed once more. Why did he feel like he didn’t really have any say on this matter?

* * *

“All ready to go, Rosie?” Hermione asked.

There were no tears in her eyes, but Rose was wearing a stubborn pout. “Do we really have to go, Mama?” she asked for the umpteenth time. And for the umpteenth time, Hermione nodded her head. For her answer, Rose resolutely stared at the tip of her shoes, her frown deepening.

Hermione glanced at Draco for help, and the blond sighed.

“Aren’t you even going to say goodbye, menace?” Draco asked.

Rose still hadn’t looked up, but he could see how her bottom lip started to quiver.

“I _might_ take you to Florean’s this Saturday, but if you don’t say goodbye, I can change my mind,” he said, slightly smirking as she perked up at the mention of the ice cream parlor. “We must steer clear from anything with peanuts, of course.”

Hermione gave him a withering glare, prompting his smirk to widen. She hadn’t brought up how he almost killed her daughter from anaphylactic shock, but Draco suspected one day she would rub it off his face during his most annoying days.

“I’d like to try the blueberry cheesecake one,” Rose quietly replied. “Uncle Harry said it was yummy.”

“Of course,” Draco said, his smirk turning into a smile when Rose finally looked at him. “So, a goodbye?”

Instead of echoing the farewell, Rose launched into Draco, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his abdomen. Laughingly, he bent down and lifted her into his arms so she could properly hug him.

“Goodbye, Draco,” Rose said, tears in her eyes once more. “I will miss you.”

He normally sucked at saying anything sappy or sentimental. He still had a lot of trouble saying these words to his mother, despite how much he really, truly loved her. He was raised in a household that did not openly show affection to others after all. Thus, it came as a surprise how he easily replied “I’ll miss you, too” to the tot. It wasn’t also uttered in a way just to appease the devastated child; he _actually_ meant it, and the fact that she and her mother would be gone in his flat soon finally sank in.

Emotions welled in his chest, feelings that were too overwhelming and foreign to him. It must have showed on his face for he saw Granger looking at him with that sad little smile on her face again, and something lodged in his throat.

“Goodbye, Draco,” Hermione echoed, and he must be imagining things but were her eyes extra dewy today?

Draco never really understood why people sometimes get teary when they said goodbye to each other. He had snarled at his classmates during their Hogwarts days when there would always be tearful goodbyes at the end of the year. After all, they would be seeing each other the following year.

He knew he would be seeing them again, especially Granger. Wizarding London was fairly small, and one way or another, he would most likely bump into Granger. Which was why he could not understand why he felt so emotional that they would be moving out of his house today.

Not trusting himself to speak, Draco placed Rose onto her feet once more and smiled his farewell. Hermione immediately latched onto her daughter, with her other free hand grasping onto their small luggage.

“Goodbye,” Rose exclaimed for the last time before she and Hermione disapparated back to their home.

Draco didn’t know how long he stood on the same spot. All he knew was that his flat was eerily silent, _too_ silent, and he had to get out of there.

* * *

“I was starting to think you forgot about me,” was Theodore Nott’s greeting when Draco stumbled out from the Nott heir’s fireplace. “I heard from Tippy you even had all the fun yesterday without inviting me.”

Draco ignored his whining and trudged towards the plush chair just beside his best friend’s. Unlike Draco, Theo opted to live in his ancestral house to continue the Nott business. The Nott Manor was fairly cheerier than the Malfoy Manor, despite all the dark undertones to live up to their last name, but it still brought too much memories during their Death Eater days. Draco could not understand how Theo could stand living in a place that still brought out the nightmares.

“They finally left today,” the blond then said after a few moments of silence.

A look of understanding graced on Theo’s features. “I heard,” he replied. “From _Tippy_. I’m a little hurt you didn’t invite me to your little farewell party. I know it sounds stupid, but I’ll actually miss the menace.”

Draco sighed and merely closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He hadn’t done anything exciting today but he strangely felt exhausted. “My flat is… _silent,_ ” he grounded out with a deep frown. “Has it always been like that?”

“Yeah,” Theo replied, smiling sadly at his best mate. “You don’t like entertaining guests in your flat, Draco.”

Theo’s answer made him frown because it was the truth. He liked the solace his humble flat offered, and he didn’t really mind living alone. He had always been alone, that much he knew. The Malfoy Manor made sure he could feel that even at such a very young age. And he got used to it he wasn’t even bothered anymore, even during his Hogwarts years.

But strangely, today, he felt like he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Want to go and have fun in the Leaky?” Theo offered. Draco hated how his best friend had a complete look of understanding on his face and was trying to make him feel better.

“It’s too rowdy in the Leaky,” he pointed out, burying himself further into the comfortable chair.

Theo sighed and shook his head. “Then, you’re free to crash in here for today,” he said. “I’ll ask Snooty to prepare your usual room tonight.”

Draco thought it was a good idea to stay here for the night.  He’d rather not go home at all.  

It was too silent. And he didn’t like it.


	13. The Dinner Invite

Draco did not know what had gotten into him but he had finally penned a resume to apply to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The impulse to do so stemmed out from one of his fruitful meetings with a CEO from Switzerland, and this sudden idea of thinking he could work well with this certain department came into mind.

Sure, it didn’t offer him his coveted position as a Curse Breaker, but he highly doubted he would even be accepted in that department. He thought it would be best if he established himself in a less benign job first before even thinking of shifting to his dream job. Besides, he thought he was actually quite good in socializing and faking smiles with important international figures; the job might be just right for him.

“Tippy,” he called, and his house-elf instantly appeared. “Cancel all my appointments next week. I have something to do.”

The creature looked at him strangely but wordlessly nodded his head. Then, when Draco waved him off in dismissal, he disappeared once more with a pop.

Now, all he needed to do was think of what he would do with the Malfoy business. He was still undoubtedly the head of everything, seeing he was already the Head of the House of Malfoy, so ditching everything without a proper plan was out of the question. Malfoy heirs in the past hadn’t even worked for anything besides the Malfoy business in their life, always filling the treasure their family kept, so Draco didn’t know where to start. Much less _how_.

The most feasible thing he could think of so far was to hire an acting CEO of the company, one who would be competent enough to stand in for him and burden all the Malfoy responsibility. Mentally, he already thought of a list of candidates and made a note of penning more letters to send.

After making sure that everything was set, Draco folded his resume, placed a wax seal on the envelope, and owled it to the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

And now, he waited.

* * *

Draco woke up with a jolt, having a strange feeling of being stared at. Years and years of doing missions for the Order of the Phoenix heightened his senses; it would be handy especially on surprise attacks done by the Dark Side.

Hand immediately gripping his wand, Draco slowly sat up from his bed and looked at the general direction where he sensed the source was. Eyes widening, the source of his discomfort was actually a parliament of owls, their equally wide eyes staring back at him.

Most kept on pecking his window, urging him to open it, and the sound snapped him off from his momentary surprise.

He tumbled out of his bed and let the owls in. There were roughly fifteen of them, all swirling overhead and dropping sheets of parchment on him.

As soon as the last owl was gone, Draco bent down to grab one of the letters. It said:

_Dear Draco,_

_How are you? We still going to Florean’s this Saturday, right?_

_Love,  
_ _Rosie_

He lifted an eyebrow at the letter, surprised that it actually came from Rose. He almost had an aneurysm when he thought it was from the ministry, but then again, they usually use ministry owls to send out business letters.

Draco grabbed another one of the letters and read:

_Dear Draco,_

_Mama said you can come visit our flat. When can you go? Can you please come soon? Please please please!_

_Love,  
_ _Rosie_

A disbelieving smile graced his handsome features as he sifted through the other letters. All of them came from Rose, urging to see him, telling him she missed him, and even recounting some of her adventures yesterday as soon as they got back home in their flat.

He wondered if Rose could already write, but then, he doubted that the penmanship used on the letter could be done by a six-year-old. Draco highly suspected magic was involved, seeing that the child was actually a bright, powerful thing.

Another owl swooped inside and dropped a letter onto his awaiting hands. It hooted happily and swooped out of the still-open window before disappearing out of sight.

Draco expected the letter to still belong from Rose, but was fairly surprised to see that it was from her mother.

_Draco,_

_I assume you’ve already been bombarded by Rose’s letters. I apologize; I believe she missed you too much for her accidental magic to summon a parliament of owls, pen numerous letters, and send them to you._

_Besides apologizing, this letter actually serves as an invitation for you to attend Saturday’s dinner with us in our flat. Harry may or may not come, but I suggest that if he did, you should be at your best behavior._

_I don’t think you can refuse. Rose has been hovering over my shoulder as I pen this letter and insists for you to come. Owls might not be the only thing you’ll receive if you refuse._

_Hermione_

Draco shook his head, an incredulous smile on his face. Why was he cursed to have an acquaintance with the most stubborn people he had ever met? Penning a quick reply that yes, he would go, and adding that he felt like he didn’t really have a choice, Draco sent the letter, smile still on his place.

He then immediately remembered he had a meeting with a muggle CEO in Muggle London this Saturday, but decided the dinner with them mattered more. He penned a quick letter of apology to said CEO and sent it, not even minding if he would get angry.

* * *

Hermione couldn’t stifle a smile as she recalled Draco’s reply to her invitation. Currently, she was preparing dinner for tonight, with their guest still away. Rose was upstairs in her bedroom, excitedly donning on her best dress to show to Draco. Shaking her head, Hermione wondered if the Malfoy was aware how much her daughter adored him already.

Her fireplace chimed, signaling an arrival, and Hermione heard Rose squeal in delight.

“Draco’s here, Mama!” she cried from their living room.

Hermione made sure everything was all set in the kitchen before washing her hands and removing her apron. As she entered the living room, she couldn’t help but to chuckle at the sight of her daughter. Rose was excitedly jumping up and down, her wild curls bouncing with her actions. She wasn’t this terribly excited every time Harry came to visit and couldn’t understand what Draco did to make Rose love him completely.

“All right, all right, calm down, sweetheart,” the mother called, placing a hand on Rose’s shoulder to stop her frantic jumping. Then, Hermione waved her wand to lower the wards. Draco immediately emerged out from the fireplace, looking annoyingly impeccable despite travelling through floo.

Even before Hermione could say hi, Rose already barreled herself into the blond.

“Draco!” she exclaimed. Rose then lifted her tiny arms and wriggled her fingers. “Up, up!” Hermione tried to hide a smile, wondering how Draco would react to her daughter’s strange request. She predicted the blond would have sneered at her daughter, spouting nonsense that carrying children was beneath him, but then, she was thoroughly surprised when Draco lifted Rose into his arms with practiced ease.

“Hello, Granger,” Draco amicably greeted, oblivious to the bewilderment of the brunette. He then lifted a small paper bag and slightly smiled. “I brought some wine as a gift. There’s Florean’s in there, too.”

Hermione wordlessly nodded and accepted his gift.

“Do you have some gift for me too, Draco?” Rose asked, eyes wide with hope and anticipation.

The brunette didn’t think it was possible for Draco to surprise her after carrying her daughter, but when he produced a small box from his robe pocket with a roll of his eyes, she knew she thought wrong.

“Yes, yes, you menace,” he said, followed by a supposedly disgruntled sigh, if not for the small quirking of his lips.

Draco placed her back down on the floor while Rose eagerly tore away the gift wrapper. Hermione was admittedly curious and she strolled closer just to take a peek. Her eyes widened, recognizing the unmistakable figurine of Captain Birch of the Tornados. Rose hugged the figurine to herself, her face brightening up with unadulterated happiness, and Draco looked proud of himself.

“That must have cost a fortune,” Hermione pointed out, remembering overhearing a conversation between him and Harry that his figurines of Quidditch players had cost him almost a thousand galleons each.

“I’m glad you can still spot good quality, Granger,” he drawled with that aristocratic accent of his.

The brunette rolled her eyes. “I meant you shouldn’t have given my daughter something that expensive, Malfoy,” she shot back. “If you must know, children tend to break things too easily.”

“I think the more important thing here is that your daughter is happy,” he said with a smirk. True to his words, Rose had immediately busied herself in playing with both Captain Birch and her stuffed toy, Sir Ginger. The Quidditch player didn’t look too pleased bumping against the plush toy.

Hermione still had a frown on her face. Although she loved her daughter dearly and she meant everything to her, Hermione still tried her very hardest not to spoil her too much. Harry had long known he would be the end of the brunette’s notorious death stares every time he gave her daughter things she deemed were expensive and unnecessary.

“Gods, Granger, it’s just a toy,” Draco said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s not like it had hurt my Gringotts account.”

She sighed, choosing to drop the subject entirely. “I’ll be in the kitchen for some last minute preparations. I’ll call for you both when everything is ready.”

Draco nodded his head while Rose completely ignored her, too immersed with her new toy. Unwittingly, Hermione smiled. She might still think the toy was too expensive, but the huge smile on her daughter’s made her accept this gift just for today.

* * *

He sat on the surprisingly comfortable couch in the humble flat and surveyed around. Although undoubtedly paling in comparison with his own lavish home, Draco admitted that their house was quite lovely. Somehow, a part of him half-expected that their home would be somewhat akin to the Burrow, seeing that Ron Weasley used to live here. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine when he remembered the “home” the Weasley family fondly called. Although he had been in the said house for quite a few times already during the War, he still could not get used to how uncomfortable the wooden, rickety house made him feel.

This small flat, however, definitely had a touch of Hermione. Lovely pastels decorated her living room and Draco was even pleasantly surprise at how lavish her carpets were. He was most definitely sure it was expensive. Opposite the fireplace stood a telly, which was marginally smaller than the one he had installed back home.

Atop the fireplace were picture frames, both magic and muggle alike. Draco slowly stood up from the couch and sauntered closer to inspect the pictures. Most of them were of Hermione and her best friends. There was even a picture of their Hogwarts days, a young Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and her, laughingly throwing snowballs at each other.

A muggle picture of a couple caught his attention. Judging from the way they looked, Draco instantly knew they were Hermione’s parents. She had her mother’s smile and her father’s eyes and nose. He was humbled with the fact that even though his mother was sickly, she could still recognize him during her lucid moments. He couldn’t imagine what Hermione was going through and he was happy she at least had Rose by her side.

There was also a picture of her and Ron during their wedding; Hermione was all smiles and gorgeous in her wedding dress, and he felt a pang of jealousy rise up from his chest when the picture of Ron kissing Hermione’s cheek looped again and again. Scowling, he directed his eyes on the next picture, this one of Hermione, Ron, and a younger Rose all waving at the camera.

The last picture was of Hermione and Rose, the daughter carried lovingly in Hermione’s arms. This one was also muggle, but he could still feel the radiance emitted from their smiles. Draco gingerly lifted the picture frame off the ledge and unknowingly smiled.

“Draco, Draco.”

His eyes landed down on Rose, who was curiously looking up at him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as she grasped onto his big hand and brightly smiled.

“Just looking at the pictures.”

“Okay,” she replied. “But, you can do that later. Come! I’ll show you my room.”

She was already energetically pulling him away from the fireplace, Draco had no choice but to place the picture down and allow Rose to pull him to her bedroom. They climbed up the stairs and Rose directed him to the farthest room in the corridor.

Rose then excitedly opened the room and Draco hadn’t readied himself with the burst of colors that invaded his senses. He felt a little nauseous for a while, but Rose had already pulled him inside. She ran to her pink bed and started to jump up and down.

“Welcome to my room!” she happily chirped, gesticulating wildly around.

“It’s very… _colorful_ ,” he commented with a grimace, noticing a huge rainbow painted on her ceiling.

“You like it?” she asked and then jumped off from her bed. “I decorated this myself!”

Draco highly doubted Hermione would allow her daughter to design her own bedroom with clashing bright colors that hurt the eyes. But then, he remembered the small tea party fiasco she made in his living room and he deduced Rose’s accidental magic was at play.

“Rosie, I told you not to bring Draco to your room,” Hermione’s stern voice suddenly exclaimed, announcing her arrival. Draco must have looked slightly green and wide-eyed because Hermione was looking at him apologetically. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”

“Yay, food!” Rose exclaimed and raced out of her bedroom.

Hermione quickly ushered Draco out of the room. “Sorry about her room,” Rose’s mother sheepishly said as they descended down the stairs. “The original state of her room was really lovely. I didn’t trust Ron when he volunteered to decorate Rose’s room so I burdened that responsibility.” Hermione made a face as a memory suddenly resurfaced in her mind. “Rose _hated_ it, said the room wasn’t pretty enough.”

Draco snorted, recalling the similar conversation he had with Rose regarding the state of his living room.

“I used to _Finite_ whatever accidental magic she’d do to her room,” Hermione continued. “But then, she’d throw a tantrum and then the room would be back to its horrendous state. I don’t even bother anymore.”

“She did the same thing to my living room once,” he explained with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione replied, shamefaced. “Blimey, she’s such a menace!”

The blond chuckled and wholeheartedly nodded his head. “Tell me about it.”

“Mama,” Rose whined. “I’m hungry!”

Hermione sighed as a small smile stretched on her face. “Coming, love,” she said. Turning to Draco, she continued, “It’s really nice for you to be here, Draco. Rose hadn’t stopped yammering about you.”

For some strange reason, this made his heart swell. “Well,” he said with his infamous smirk. “What can I say? I’m wonderful. Of course, she’ll miss me.”

His words prompted her to roll her eyes. “You’re not even an hour here in my home, but your ego already filled the whole house,” she said whilst shaking her head.

Draco laughed, cheeks warming upon seeing Hermione’s smile, and then followed the brunette into their dining area.

* * *

Dinner was wonderful and Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she felt very relaxed. She couldn’t help smiling as she remembered Draco’s judgmental look when she insisted to wash the dishes the muggle way, but had the decency to keep his mouth shut.

Currently, he and Rose were in the living room, watching _The Wizard of Oz_ upon the little girl’s insistence. She could hear the movie from the kitchen, humming with the songs and smiling when she could hear her daughter’s hearty laugh.

Today was still so surreal and Hermione couldn’t begin to explain the weirdness of it all. The younger version of herself would have laughed ridiculously at anyone suggesting she and Draco Malfoy could actually be friends in the future. To be honest, she was more surprised that Draco _willingly_ accepted her as a friend – well, she _hoped_ – more than she accepted him as one.

 _‘The War did truly change people,’_ she thought with a sad, little smile.

“We’re done with the movie,” she then heard Draco’s annoyed voice. “Why the hell are you rewinding it?”

A slight frown of disapproval appeared on her face upon hearing Draco’s swear word, but opted to continue listening instead of barging in and giving him a piece of her mind.

“I wanna hear _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_ again!” Rose exclaimed in reply. Draco released a disgruntled groan and Hermione knew it was her cue to wrap up her washing.

After wiping her hands on her apron and untying the said garment, Hermione briskly walked towards the living room but halted with the scene right in front of her.

Rose was happily singing under her breath, her head lightly leaning against Draco. What caught her attention more was Draco, who was gently smiling at the screen as he watched Dorothy crooning the famous song.

He looked relaxed and happy… _open_ and contented. She had never seen him like this before, even when he was still a snooty, little boy who thought he owned the world. He had always been tormented with his nightmares; there were times when he would wake her with his screams when they were on missions.

Hermione honestly wished him the best after the war. He had been through a lot and he had been brave enough to leave everything he thought he believed in to fight for the other side. The man bloody needed a break, but this cruel, discriminating world had robbed him from having any semblance of peace and normalcy.

Perhaps… _perhaps_ Rose was good for him. She still had numerous doubts if exposing her daughter to this man was a good idea, when in fact her daughter had helped him all along. Hermione couldn’t be prouder with Rose.

Something warm grew in her heart as Draco started to softly hum with Rose and Dorothy.

The spell of the moment was then broken when the song had ended and Rose saw her.

“Mama!” she greeted. Draco looked at her and for some strange reason she couldn’t meet his eye.

“Are you done with the movie?” she asked and strolled closer.

“Yep!” Rose exclaimed in reply.

Hermione composed herself for a few more seconds before finally looking at Draco. “So, how was it?” she asked.

The blond contemplated for a while, before replying, “Well… it was _nice_. The magic, however, was _atrocious_. Do muggles really think that’s how magic works?”

His comment made her laugh. “Wait ‘til you see the older movies,” she said. “I’m surprised you liked it, though. Ron _hated_ everything about it.”

“Let me guess,” he said with a sneer. “The lion wasn’t brave enough and it shook his Gryffindor beliefs?”

She widely grinned at his correct guess. “Well–“

Before Hermione could fully reply, the fireplace suddenly roared emerald green from an incoming firecall. All their eyes looked at the blazing fire and Hermione knew the firecall was urgent, seeing that it was in the middle of the night.

“I should get that,” Hermione excused.

As she dropped the wards, Harry’s face suddenly popped in the fire.

“Terribly sorry for the late firecall, Hermione, but this is urgent,” he greeted with a grim expression on his face.

It was what she expected but Hermione still grew alarmed. She shot a look at Draco and Rose, who were both looking at her in curiosity. Giving the blond an apologetic smile, she uttered a soft _Muffliato_ to keep their conversation private. Upon seeing Draco’s dark glare, she knew her spell had worked before turning back to Harry.

“This is about Lestrange, isn’t it?” she said.

Harry sighed and nodded. “I know it’s unfair to send you some work when you’re not even officially back, but I need you to look into something.” The green fire flickered, and Hermione knew her best friend was running a hand through his hair and making it more impossibly disheveled. She did not take it as a good sign.

“I’m listening,” she said, urging him to continue.

“It’s too risky to talk about it on firecall, so I’ve already sent some documents through owl post,” he said. “You should be receiving it in your study soon.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll check it now.”

The-Boy-Who-Lived worriedly looked at her. “Are you quite sure you are all right now, Hermione?” he inquired with genuine concern. “I know how wonderfully efficient and competent you are, but we need you healthy. If you still need to rest, I can ask-“

“ _Harry_ ,” she said with a huge sigh. “I’m quite all right now. Don’t worry.”

He still looked highly unconvinced, but resigned at the same time. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m keeping an eye on you for the next few days. One little slip and I’ll send you back home before you can even finish saying _‘magic’_ , you hear me?”

“Yes, _Father_ , I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied whilst rolling her eyes.

Harry’s smile turned fond. “Good night and rest well, Hermione. Don’t tire yourself with the documents I will send tonight. _I mean it_!” His face disappeared in the flames briefly before reappearing again. “I still have some work today. Godric, I hate paperwork! I can’t wait for you to come back tomorrow and do those things for me instead.”

“My services aren’t for free, Potter,” she cajoled and Harry looked shock.

“Spending a lot of time with Malfoy changed you, woman!” he accused, prompting her to laugh. “Anyway, I am really needed right now. See you tomorrow! Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said in farewell. The green flames burned brightly before finally returning to its original state. Hermione then _Finite’d_ her spell and turned to her daughter and guest.

“What did Potter want?” Draco demanded as soon as the spell was gone.

Hermione merely sheepishly smiled.

Rose jumped down from the couch and ran towards her mother. “Will Uncle Harry come over, too, Mama?” she eagerly asked.

“Sorry, darling, your uncle is busy tonight,” Hermione replied as she lifted Rose into her arms. “You, on the other hand, should already get ready for bedtime.”

“Nooooo,” Rose whined, squirming in her arms. “I promised Draco that we’ll watch _Toy Story 3_ after _The Wizard of Oz_.”

Hermione frowned and looked at the wizard, who merely shrugged. “It’s past your bedtime,” she scolded, but her daughter did not look nowhere near sleepy. It would be futile to put her to sleep when she still wasn’t tired. Perhaps she had given her too much sweets tonight.

After a few more minutes of contemplation, Hermione finally sighed. “Oh all right, I’ll only agree if Draco here doesn’t need to go home yet.”

Rose craned her neck and looked at him with her big, blue eyes. “Please, Draco, please!” she cried. “ _Toy Story 3_ was my second bestest favorite movie. We could watch _Toy Story 1 and 2_ someday, but _Toy Story 3_ is still the bestest so I want you to watch it with me first!”

“It’s _best_ , love,” Hermione corrected, glaring lightly at how Draco smirked.

“I don’t mind staying for a few more hours,” he then replied.

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she deposited Rose on Draco’s lap. “What? No papers to check? No mails to owl? No poor house-elves to order around?” she teased.

“Very funny, Granger,” he deadpanned. “But to answer all your ridiculous questions, no, I am not busy tonight.”

“Shocker,” she said with a wide grin. “Well, I will be in my room for some business matters. I’ll be checking up on both of you after two more hours.”

Draco nodded his head as Rose eagerly jumped off him to start _Toy Story 3_. “Don’t tire yourself tonight, Hermione,” he warned just with the right amount of concern.

Hermione sighed. “You’re not my father either, seriously,” she said, although she couldn’t help but quirk a little smile at how he opted to call her by her first name instead. She suspected he didn’t even notice calling her by that. “Please watch over Rose for a few more hours.”

“Yes, yes, now go,” he said, making some shooing motions.

She nodded her head and turned around. Before completely disappearing from the living room, however, she swiveled around with a strange glint in her eyes. “Oh, brace yourself for this movie,” she said, complete with a mysterious smile.

“Why?” he asked with suspicion.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

All the documents Harry had sent her was making her head fuzzy already and Hermione knew it was time to call it a night. Glancing at her magical wall clock, she was surprised it was almost nearing midnight. Eyes widening, she quickly pushed herself off her chair and walked out of her study.

In quick, big strides she arrived in her living room in record time but stop dead on her tracks at the scene before her. Rose was undoubtedly asleep already, her red curls splayed messily atop Draco’s lap. The movie had thankfully ended already, the credits rolling in, and Hermione cursed herself silently for losing track of time and forgetting she had a guest tonight.

“I’m so sorry I forgot about you,” Hermione greeted with a sheepish grin.

Her grin turned into a small frown when Draco stiffened and refused to look at her. He noisily cleared his throat, still resolutely refusing to look at her. “Rose fell asleep at the first part of the movie,” he explained. “I chose to finish the movie seeing you’re still busy, so it doesn’t really matter, Granger.”

His voice sounded strange and that was when Hermione realized what was _wrong_. “Did you _cry_?” she asked, sounding too triumphant, but she didn’t care one bit.

“Fuck _no_ ,” Draco growled, still conveniently looking away from Hermione. He then scooped up Rose into his arms. “Anyway, I’ll put this menace to her bed and I’ll be down soon.”

He then quickly rushed upstairs, a sleeping Rose in his arms. Hermione was too amused to scold him for jostling her daughter too much.

When Draco came back down, that same, arrogant expression on his face, Hermione decided to drop this issue. Her eyes were still knowing, however, and the blond gave her the darkest glare he could muster. “I _did not_ cry,” he grounded out.

“I wasn’t even saying anything anymore!” she shot back with laugh, prompting his glare to darken.

He then lifted his pointy nose and looked down on her. “Well, Granger, it was a lovely dinner but I’m afraid I must retire for the day,” he regally said, and Hermione couldn’t stop herself from grinning too widely.

“Wait!” she called when he started to collect his belongings. When he questioningly looked at her, Hermione lightly blushed and couldn’t understand what possessed her today. “Perhaps… you want some tea before you leave?”

He slightly frowned at her question, but then thankfully nodded his head. “Tea won’t hurt, I think,” he said in reply.

“Brilliant,” Hermione said, already brandishing out her wand to boil some water. She led him to the kitchen and he settled on one of the chairs.

Tea was soon served and Hermione settled on the chair beside him. She allowed herself to smile a little at the aromatic smell of the beverage before taking a small sip to soothe her troubled nerves.

“Potter had news on Lestrange, right?” Draco casually drawled as he placed his steaming mug on the table counter and leaned back a little.

Hermione pursed her lips and gave him a look. “To be honest, I can’t actually talk about him outside work,” she slowly stated. “His case is, well, _classified_ and you’re not officially on board on his case so…”

Draco scowled. “You and Potter had given me some information before,” he pointed out, crossing his arms against his chest. “Why the sudden secrecy, Granger?”

She sighed and shifted a little on her seat to fully look at him. “Harry thought it would be for the safety of everybody if only a few people know everything about Lestrange’s case,” she calmly replied back. “You and I both know he is a _dangerous_ man. The less people know about our progress, the better.”

“So there _is_ progress,” he pointed out triumphantly, prompting her to frown. “And for all I know, you opted to exclude me because I used to run in the same circle as he did.”

He didn’t mean what he said seriously, but it had surprised him greatly when Hermione’s eyes hardened resolutely. “That’s stupid and untrue, Draco Malfoy,” she spat with utmost passion that made him feel weird things. “I, of all people, should know how much you’ve changed and you are _not like him_.”

His eyes widened a little, a small smirk now on his face. “Merlin, Granger, calm down,” he said, humored. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything, gods. No need to get all defensive.”

The hard look in her eyes melted as she released a deep sigh. “I…” She paused, bit her bottom lip, then continued, “You should stop blaming yourself for your past misgivings, Draco.”

Hermione slightly scowled when he carefully masked his emotions behind his perfectly crafted mask. “I don’t need a bloody pep talk tonight, Granger,” he growled, and she knew it would be for the best if she just dropped the topic all together.

“Right, of course,” she said with a sad frown. “Sorry about that.”

He still coldly looked at her before giving the slightest of nods and went back to his tea.

Desperate to dispel the uncomfortable silence that she undoubtedly caused, Hermione quickly inquired, “So how’s all the Malfoy business doing?”

It took him a few seconds to reply, but it made Hermione sigh in relief when his mask finally broke. “Quite well,” he said, giving her a sideway glance. “Of course I won’t bore you with all the details you won’t even understand.” He fell silent for a while, before his eyes widened in sudden remembrance. “ _Damn it_ , I forgot to send a letter to Zabini.”

“Blaise Zabini?”

He nodded his head.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion a little. She vaguely remembered him as the same aloof bully as the blond man sitting beside her. Although Theodore Nott was silent during their Hogwarts days, Blaise Zabini was a boisterous, proud boy and she clearly remembered not liking him one bit.

“Why?” she asked before she could stifle her curiosity.

“None of your business, Granger,” Draco flippantly said, prompting her to glare a little. “I don’t need to report everything about myself to you.”

“Fine, whatever, I’m just trying to be friend,” she replied, disgruntled, and nursed her steaming cup of tea. Sometimes, it was unbearably frustrating to interact with Draco and she was always the one who kept on reaching out.

At the corner of her eyes, she could see Draco’s surprise at her sudden sour behavior.

“You don’t need to get all upset on me, Granger,” he said, complete with a confused frown. “If you’re being so persistent, then if you must know, I’ll have to discuss with Zabini to handle most of the Malfoy business if ever I get accepted.”

“Accepted?” she parroted. “Where?”

One corner of his lips lifted. “I sent my resume to the Department of International Magical Cooperation in hopes of getting accepted,” he answered.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “ _Really_?” she asked, utterly in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t take you as someone who would opt to discuss magical affairs with other ambassadors of foreign magical ministries.”

“And why do you say that?” he asked, clearly not offended with what she said.

“Well… you’re more _action_ ,” she said, reminiscing on the days when every fiber of Draco Malfoy was alive during their missions together. She always thought he would be a wonderful auror, but she doubted he would even believe her when she told him so.

“Truthfully, I’ve always wanted to be a Curse Breaker,” he divulged. “But you and I both know how competitive this field is and seeing that I have a rather… _unpleasant_ past, I thought it would be better to apply on the next best thing. Besides, I’ve been practically doing this all my life ever since I took upon the Malfoy business, what with all the meetings and whatnot all over the world. I think I’m rather good at it so I thought it would be best if I give this position a try first before pursuing my other interests.

She was truly happy for him, but it bothered her how he thought he would never have a shot in becoming a Curse Breaker. True, this field was competitive, but he would _undoubtedly_ be good at it. She couldn’t understand why the proud Draco Malfoy she had always known doubted he would even be accepted in his dream job.

She couldn’t voice out her opinion, however. Hermione knew he had a hard past and it was nice he was starting to break out from the comfort shell he had been living in ever since the War ended.

“When would your interview be?” she asked instead, realizing she had been silent for too long.

“A week from now,” he then said. “I still have to make some necessary arrangements in order to continue flourishing the Malfoy business while I demote myself and work for the bloody government.”

Hermione laughed. “You’ll get used to it, I promise,” she said. “All the bureaucracy is tiring but hey, at least it gives some food on your plate.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her statement. “Need I remind you I’m practically Wizarding Royalty?” he asked. “Food has never been out of my plate, so to speak.”

“Gods, I hate rich snobs like you,” she lightly cajoled, prompting him to smirk.

“Peasants like you wouldn’t understand us, Granger.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Right, _peasants_ like me,” she said with a sigh. “I apologize, _your highness_.”

Draco chuckled then looked at his watch. “Although this has been a lovely evening, I’m afraid I have to leave,” he said, already standing up from his seat. Hermione had tried her very best to conceal the disappointment she suddenly felt. “You’d be back to work tomorrow and I think you should retire for the night.”

“Of course,” she said, also slipping down from her chair. “Thank you for coming to visit, Draco.” She flashed the brightest smile she could muster, once again thinking that tonight was bloody bizarre but pleasant at the same time. “You can visit again some time, I hope.”

“I’m sure Rose would make sure of that,” he said with a small smile.

Hermione then led him to the living room. “Well, good luck on your future endeavors, Draco,” she said. “I hope to see you in the ministry soon.”

He looked highly doubtful with her statement, but didn’t say anything in reply. Instead, he bid her a soft goodnight, grabbed a pinch of her floo powder, and disappeared in a flash of emerald green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so if we stuck with the timeline, 'Toy Story 3' still had not come out during this time. But it was honestly the first saddest cartoon I'd thought of, so let's just all pretend it came out earlier!


	14. The Interview

He couldn’t understand why the head of the company was tasked to do this _menial_ job. All Theodore Nott wished for today was to stick inside his office for the whole day, swiveling around his revolving chair, while pretending to be the busy Head of Nott Incorporation he was supposed to be.

But _no_.

Simply put, there was some mishap with the currently being renovated Nott library. Some house-elf had gone insane and set off numerous spells that painted the whole room a sickly green that no amount of magic could undo. Some team of experts had inspected the mess and all concluded that the most logical thing to do was to paint everything the Muggle way.

Seeing that the Mistress Nott was currently _indisposed_ (of wasting away the Nott riches in some unknown country), Theo knew that as the Head of Nott, the task was bestowed upon him. Also, knowing his stepmother, he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he merely opted to buy some bloody paint from some store and painted the whole damn wall by himself.

Thus, Theo currently found himself strolling inside a building promising to offer the best interior designers of Muggle London. He scowled at the bustling atrium, numerous Muggles chatting away in their cellphones. He had to admit, though, that the atrium was stylishly designed, but he was too annoyed with his misfortunes to appreciate everything.

Instead, he strode towards the front desk. Behind it was an old lady, one that was reminiscent of his Nana, who used to chase after him with a long stick at hand, and felt instantly nervous.

“Pardon me,” he excused, then nervously clearing his throat.

“Do you have an appointment?” she answered monotonously without bothering to look up from her trashy, romance pocketbook.

“Yes, I believe I am to see Mister Sanders today?”

She perked up at the name with mild interest in her eyes. “I see,” she said, briefly skimming the clipboard on her desk. “Mister Ted Knight?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he replied.

“I apologize, sir, but Mister Sanders is currently on vacation leave,” she explained. “However, he entrusted me to present to you the next best interior designer for your lovely home.”

Theo frowned. Andrew Sanders had already known about his _secret_ , and it made him a little queasy that another person in this building knew of his magical abilities. “He didn’t tell me,” he said, clearly annoyed.

The receptionist clucked at the tone of his voice, prompting him to flinch. “If you must know, Mister Knight, Miss Hartness is one of the _best_ in this company.”

His eyes widened at the name. “Who?” he demanded.

Before the old lady could answer her, a blonde head peeked from one of the doors, a huge smile on her face. “Amy!” she cried. “I finally finished decorating the tea room. Come check and see if it’s pretty.”

“Bless your heart, child,” the old receptionist fondly said. “Of course anything you do is pretty. Also, your client is here.”

Her eyes finally settled on the strangely silent Theo and it made him marginally comforted to see that Luna Lovegood, too, was caught off guard with his presence.

“Blast it all,” she lightly cursed, her body finally materializing as she strolled out. “I was hoping ‘Ted Knight’ was just a surprising coincidence.”

“You two know each other?” the receptionist, Amy, asked.

“Yes”, Theo replied at the same time Luna replied, “Barely.” He quirked an eyebrow at her reply.

“Perhaps some tea for you dearies?” she asked, eyeing them with slight suspicion in her eyes.

“That would be lovely, Amy, thank you,” Luna said, her wide, glazed blue eyes still staring at him. “We’ll be in my office.”

Theo felt a smirk slowly creeping onto his face, prompting Luna to look wholly unamused.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her face impassive.

“Like what _Amy_ said, I’m your new client,” Theo said, his smirk now full-blown on his face. “Terrible luck now, yeah? Though, I’m surprised to see that you are an interior designer now. I’ve always wondered what you were doing here in the Muggle world.”

He mentally slapped himself with the implication that he was even _thinking_ about her. He refused to waver, however, at how her eyes lightly narrowed at his statement. She was silent for ages, and he took that opportunity to survey with amusement at her strange ensemble today. She was once again sporting a denim overall with a white shirt underneath, or what was left from it, really, seeing that there were impossible splotches of paint scattered around it. She was sporting cork earrings today, and he unconsciously mused Rose would have loved it, too.

Luna finally sighed and silently gestured for him to follow her. They zigzagged through the quaint company; Theo marveled at how different corridors sported different themes of color and motif. He now understood why this company catered the best interior designers in Muggle London.

They finally arrived in front of a bright yellow door. Luna must have caught him looking at it with amusement, for she said, “I happen to like yellow.”

Theo grinned this time, remembering the ridiculous yellow socks she used to love to wear back in Hogwarts. “Of course."

Luna gave him a look once more, before releasing a soft sigh and shaking her head. Theo then noticed there were actual glitters on her hair, perhaps from one of her painting escapades, and found himself a little mesmerized at how her hair sparkled, glitters and light and all.

He slightly shook his head when Luna finally opened the door and ushered him inside. His eyes widened a little at how blue her walls were, with painted sunflowers atop a sea of green grass. Near her desk was a huge tree, with small, pink flowers, and Theo swore the leaves were lightly swaying.

Her room was bright and happy and very much like her. He _liked_ it.

“Please have a seat,” Luna said, gesturing at the chair opposite her desk. She had already settled on her chair, managing to rustle some of the leaves from her tree.

“Okay, but I think you’ve bewitched that painted tree,” he lightly accused, prompting her to blush.

“I… tweaked it a bit, yes,” she confessed, unable to look in his eyes. “Muggles do not notice until they look very hard.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to use magic anymore?” he asked. He didn’t mean it to sound too accusatory, but Luna slightly flinched from his words, her eyes hardening a little.

“I try not to use it as much as possible,” she deadpanned, and Theo had to mentally slap himself once more. He truly was an idiot every time he was in the presence of Luna Lovegood. It was already too disconcerting.

“Right, of course,” he said as he finally settled on the chair.

Thankfully, Amy took that time to bring in their tea, complete with some scones to snack with.

“Thank you, Amy,” Luna said, her features now softening as she smiled at the old receptionist.

“I’ll be at my desk if you need me, Selena,” the old lady smiled before disappearing from the room.

Luna allowed him to take a few sips from his tea before finally pulling out a folder from her small pile. “Andrew told me you need some renovating in your library, yes?” she asked, sounding too business-y and professional.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “No offense, but I’m surprised you agreed to work in a wizard home.”

The blonde sighed and flipped through her documents. “Andrew accidentally discovered I’m a witch a few months ago and thought it would be good for the business if we expanded to _other_ clients. Else, he’d expose me to the company and not everybody thinks like him.” She crinkled her nose a bit and frowned. “Think of pitchforks and pyres, but with a modern twist.”

“That’s blackmail!” he exclaimed, aghast.

“It’s business,” she corrected with a serene smile. “Besides, his office is infested with umgubular slahskilters. I don’t want to provoke him.”

He scrunched up his nose at another of her make-believe creatures, but didn’t comment about it. Instead, he said, “I trust you’ve reviewed my documents already so you know that the library cannot be painted the magical way.”

“Yes, some house-elf mishap,” she said, frowning a little. “Poor creature. You must have driven him insane.”

Theo was affronted with her offhanded accusation, but then he remembered it was his _stepmother’s_ fault Blimpy had lost control and just exploded, with innards and blood spraying everywhere. It was a horrifying sight and some of the little house-elves working in the manor had nightmares about it.

“I can start working next week, but I’m afraid I’ll only be able to work on Wednesdays and Fridays,” she said, briefly checking on the calendar on her desk. “It may be done a month or so. It depends.” She sifted through the papers again, then frowned. “You want the ceiling to be painted black? Isn’t it too dark for a library?”

“Tradition,” Theo sighed. “We Nott’s value intelligence, so the library is one of the most important parts in the house. Symbolism is everything.”

Luna slowly nodded her head. “Nott. Night,” she said with a small smile. “I still think it’s terribly dark for a library.”

“You can tweak it with whatever the hell you want,” he said with a sigh. “I just want this damn library to be finished before another house-elf becomes insane.”

She was looking at him with amusement when he added, “You might need some help. Obviously you can’t hire other Muggles to help you, and my stepmother would have an aneurysm if I hired more strangers to decorate her library. I can ask some of my house-elves to assist you as you paint.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” she hastily said. “I’ve painted libraries alone before and I’d be done even before this month ends.”

He casually lifted an eyebrow at her confidence.

“Well, have you seen _our_ library?”

* * *

“Zabini dropped by in my office a while ago and _what the fuck_ , Draco?”

“And hello to you too, Theo,” Draco drawled without lifting his eyes to look at his best friend.

Theo snarled and snatched the paper off Draco’s hands, prompting the blond to sigh and warily glance at him. “I’m assuming you already heard the news from him?” he slowly inquired.

“More like singsonged the news, that bastard,” he replied, plopping on one of the couches in Draco’s study. “What the hell are you thinking, Draco? I get that you’re bored with all this head of house nonsense. Blimey, I’m not even judging you for wanting to apply to that crappy department in the ministry! What I do not understand is why you’re asking Zabini, _of all people_ , to be the proxy head to your company while you exchange pleasantries with old farts.”

Draco gave him a withering look. “I get that he’s a bastard and all” – “Damn right he is!” – “ _But_ , you can’t deny that he’s good with business, Theo. Besides, he knew not to double-cross me. I know things that could land him to Azkaban.”

Unlike him and Theo, Blaise was a Voldemort supporter through and through. His only saving grace was that he was badly injured prior to the War so he couldn’t participate. But _oh_ , if people knew what Blaise Zabini did during their Hogwarts years. Even thinking about it made his skin crawl.

“But _Zabini_? _Really_?” Theo whined. “I could have suggested you some other people like… like Pansy’s brother or… or Goyle!”

The blond scrunched his nose in disgust. “I’d rather not go bankrupt even before I start working in the ministry,” he pointed out.

His best friend sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “ _Fine_ ,” he said with firm seriousness on his face. “I know you’re cautious and all, but I just want to say it nonetheless. Be careful around, Zabini. You know how much he worshipped Voldemort and his sick ideologies. He’s _bad news_.”

It had worried him, of course, but after a lot of pondering, Draco could not think of any other candidates who would perfectly handle the pressure of heading the Malfoy business. “I’ve given him a piece of my mind, don’t worry,” he smirked, recalling the fear that flashed in Blaise’s eyes when he threatened him with a lot of unimaginable things.

Theo still looked wholly unconvinced, but of course he couldn’t do anything about it anymore. Instead, he asked, “When would your interview be, anyway?”

“Tomorrow,” the blond replied, eyes growing stony with worry. It was good that Theo chose today to drop by. He needed the distraction from the crippling anxiety he was having for tomorrow’s interview.

“I would like to say good luck, but I still could not picture you working in the ministry,” Nott shot back with a smirk. “I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things about the Department Head of DIMC.”

Oh, he’d heard a lot of things about Henrik McLaggen all right, but he’d rather not think about his potential boss today.

“Anyway, I got to go,” Theo said as he finally stood up from the couch. “I still have some library painting to foresee.”

Draco looked confused. “Your library?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you’re bothering yourself over renovation matters now.”

He was surprised and highly suspicious when Theo’s cheeks darkened a little. “None of your bloody business,” he muttered under his breath, prompting his other eyebrow to lift in surprise. Theo proceeded to stride out of his office, mumbling about ‘nosy ferrets’ and ‘stupid best friends’ under his breath.

He didn’t dwell too much about Theo’s strange behavior as soon as his best friend was gone. Draco had other matters to worry about.

* * *

Tippy had tears in his eyes while helping Draco dress for his interview. It was wholly uncomfortable, but Draco felt strangely moved that his house-elf was half-proud, half-devastated that he was starting to pursue his dreams. He had been blubbering about how he wouldn’t be able to attend to him too much since Master Draco would be too busy with the ministry and the likes.

“Late Master Lucius would be very mad,” Tippy bemoaned, big, fat tears rolling down from his eyes. “Very, very mad.”

Perhaps, that was the best thing that Tippy had told him ever since he started getting ready for his interview. He had numerous doubts, all right. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, millions of scenarios running through his head, and Draco had felt sick ever since Theo left. But if joining the Department of International Magical Cooperation would make Lucius Malfoy mad, then Draco knew it was the right thing to do.

“It’s not as if you won’t be seeing me anymore, Tippy,” Draco assured, fixing the collar of his wizard robes. “I trust you’d still manage my household and give me updates about my mother from time to time.”

Tippy was passionately nodding his head, prompting Draco to smile a little. “Master Draco needs not worry, sir. Tippy will handle everything.”

“All right then,” Draco said, as he smoothed out his wizard robes for the last time. “Wish me luck.”

“Oh, the stars would” –

“ _Never mind_ ,” Draco hastily cut him off from a possible passionately declaration, a grimace on his face. “I’ll be back for dinner, Tippy. For now, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

Tippy looked honestly lost with his command. In the end, after haphazardly wiping his tear-stained face, he bowed low before disappearing with a pop.

Draco took a deep breath, checked his wand in his holster, before also disapparating.

* * *

He honestly forgot when the last time he actually waited in line for a very long time was. As part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, practically a _Wizarding Royalty_ , Draco had been privileged to always be attended to first. Of course that privilege was stripped off of him after the war had ended, but Draco hadn’t really been a fan of going out. Lining up to meet and greet Brevis Birch with Rose and Theo was the only exception.

“Mister… Malfoy?”

Breathless gasps resounded in the waiting room as all eyes settled on him. He knew that some of them had already been eyeing him suspiciously, and to finally confirm that he was _the_ Draco Malfoy, they were all unabashedly ogling at him.

He _hated_ it.

He gave them all a dark glare when he stood up and approached a nervous, twitchy, mousy-haired man that looked like he was a fresh graduate. Twitchy, as what he decided to call him, paled when Draco finally reached him and had merely stared at him a full minute before snapping back to reality.

“Right, this way, s-sir,” he said, tucking the clipboard under his armpit and ushering Draco into a small, stuffy room that smelled strangely of garlic and rose. It was nauseating, especially because the smells had clashed. Judging from the reaction from Twitchy, Draco figured this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

“Draco _Malfoy_ ,” the man behind the desk greeted. “Please have a seat.”

He was a bloated, hairy man. His beard almost covered the lower half of his face and if it weren’t from his unsettling grin, Draco would have sworn he didn’t have a mouth.

Without being told twice, he lowered himself on the uncomfortable, wooden chair in front of his potential boss. Beardy, who went with the name Henrik McLaggen, laced his pudgy fingers and leaned closer to the blond. “Pardon me for saying this, but I am surprised a rich heir like you would opt to demote himself and work in the dingy ministry,” he muttered, the unsettling grin still plastered on his face.

He sat straighter on his chair. “I just wish to pursue some of my other interests, Bea – _Mister_ McLaggen, sir,” he said, cheeks warming a little from his almost slip. He seriously, _seriously_ need to stop himself from putting nicknames on people he had merely met for the first time.

“Ah,” he uttered back, now leaning back on his chair. “Tell me something about yourself, besides, _of course_ , your interesting past.” He pointedly shot a look at his covered Dark Mark and Draco had this inexplicable desire to cover it further with his right hand.

He noisily cleared his throat until McLaggen’s eyes settled onto him once more. “I work very well under pressure,” he said, subsequently biting his tongue to stop himself from adding _‘of course’_ , memories of the Vanishing Cabinet and Dumbledore’s murder resurfacing in his mind. “I pride myself with my intelligence, seeing that I was second in my class.”

“Only second?”

This time, Draco allowed himself to slip a small smile on his face. “Nobody could beat Hermione Granger,” he replied.

“Ah, of course, Miss Granger,” he parroted, a strange glint in his eyes. “I heard you are now an acquaintance of hers? And Harry Potter’s? Interesting choice of acquaintanceship on their part, seeing how your views had clashed in the previous war.”

He tried his very best not to retort that their views had been one and the same, only his came in _too late._ But he knew that this condescending man took offense too quickly, and had to settle himself in answering instead, “I am well acquainted with them, yes.”

“Due to missions during the war,” McLaggen supplemented. “As an _Order_ member despite being an Ex-Death Eater.”

“Yes,” he grounded out, annoyed that he was bringing out his past. But then again, Draco should have expected this.

Beardy McLaggen made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat and rested a pudgy hand on his swollen belly. “Do you still have other interests, Mister Malfoy?” he nonchalantly asked. “Interests that might… compromise my department?”

“If you meant to ask if I still have interests in the Dark Arts, then no, _sir_ , I do not,” he snarled back, unable to control his annoyance anymore. Well, he was interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he wasn’t ready to answer him yet in case McLaggen asked why he didn’t apply in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement instead. To hell with being accepted, honestly! Draco had this sudden urge to shoot out from his chair and storm out from this bloody, smelly room.

If it were possible, McLaggen’s grin widened. It was strangely reminiscent of Cormac McLaggen’s, and he suddenly remembered he did not like his nephew one bit.

“It is interesting how you thought about the Dark Arts first, Mister Malfoy,” the older wizard replied, sounding too triumphant for his own good. Draco’s wand hand twitched in suppressed annoyance. “I had to, of course, assure the whole department that you do not have, as you’ve stated, any interests in practicing the Dark Arts anymore. The team would have loved to hear that, wouldn’t they?”

“Of course, sir,” he said through gritted teeth.

McLaggen then waved off his hand in dismissal. “That’s all,” he said. “A ministry owl will be sent to you next week to deliver the news of your acceptance. _If_ you get accepted, that is.”

He stiffly shot up from his chair and gave the slightest nod before swiveling around and stomping out of McLaggen’s room. Twitchy the fresh graduate gave a small squeak when Draco glared at him, but the blond didn’t take notice. He ignored the curious, interested looks the other aspirants shot him, wanting to be away from the ministry and into the safety confines of his humble abode. All he could think of was how stupid he was for thinking he would have a shot in the Ministry when handling the Malfoy business was enough.

“Draco!”

He stopped dead on his tracks when he heard Hermione’s familiar voice. His anger was then replaced with dread and prayed to whomever could hear him that the brunette would just leave him alone. Alas, Hermione’s familiar bushy hair appeared and Draco knew he had no way to escape anymore.

“Is your interview done already?” she asked, her bright smile lighting up her whole face.

“Yes,” he curtly replied.

The smile on her face fell with his answer. Granger was awfully perceptive and Draco wasn’t doing a great job in hiding his emotions today.

“How was it?” she then gently asked, although the look in her eyes already understood what he felt.

“Disastrous,” was the only thing he could reply.

Hermione sighed, looked at her watch, then said, “Want to grab lunch? I have an hour left before my meeting.”

He merely shrugged, head a little bent, when he blindly followed Hermione out of the ministry building. Draco didn’t notice he was holding his breath until they stumbled out of the telephone booth.

Hermione was silent all throughout their whole journey and it was only when they finally arrived in a quaint, French restaurant when he noticed she brought him to Muggle London. Draco faltered a little as he crossed the threshold of the restaurant, not really used to being in Muggle London. Not wanting to offend Hermione, however, he caught up with the brunette and sat down opposite her.

“I figured you didn’t want to eat in Wizarding London,” she said with a sheepish smile. Draco merely nodded, silently grateful that strangers surrounded them.

As soon as the waiter took their orders, Hermione worriedly looked at him again. “How disastrous was it?” she gently probed.

“As expected from an _Ex-Death Eater_ ,” he spat, the anger in him seeping out once more. Hermione flinched from the tone of his voice, and Draco tried to restrain his anger, knowing it was unfair to lash out at her when she didn’t do anything wrong. Sighing, he slumped down on his seat and glared at the table. “I should have expected it. I didn’t know why I even hoped everything would be all right.”

Hermione was silent for a minute, before releasing a soft sigh in return. “Henrik McLaggen is a bastard. Everybody in the ministry knew it,” she said through gritted teeth. “Like uncle, like nephew.”

Draco scowled, recalling how Cormac McLaggen used to maliciously ogle at Hermione back in Hogwarts. His dislike for his uncle heightened. “Yeah, well, Beardy didn’t try his best to hide it at all.”

“Beardy?” she echoed with a frown.

The blond blinked, sheepish eyes connecting with hers. “A nickname,” he hastily said. “A stupid habit of mine.”

Hermione looked highly amused. “You give people nicknames?” she asked.

“Only strangers,” he said with a frown. Upon Hermione’s look, he rolled his eyes and added, “And people I bully.” Hermione chuckled, and he continued, “It’s easier for me to remember the faces of strangers. I used to call Potter ‘Glasses’ even before I recognized the scar on his forehead.”

A small smile appeared on her face. “Did you give Ron a nickname?” she asked.

Draco sneered. “It wasn’t hard to guess he was a Weasley,” he shot back. “Red hair, hand-me-down clothes, and a stupid complexion. _Definitely_ a Weasley.”

“Fair enough,” she said, now grinning widely. “And me?”

“Pre -” He faltered, eyes widening at his almost slip. “ _Bushy_ ,” he grounded out, mentally cursing himself. “I called you ‘Bushy’ because of your hair.”

She knew it wasn’t her nickname, seeing how she narrowed her eyes, but had thankfully let it slide. Instead, she said, “McLaggen isn’t the greatest of bosses in the whole Ministry. I’m sure it’ll be the whole department’s loss if they didn’t accept you.”

He raised a pale eyebrow at her statement. “And how do you know that?” he asked.

Hermione shrugged. “Merlin, you’ve locked yourself in your study for god knows how long, doing all your Malfoy business stuff,” she said. “The Malfoy business is still flourishing despite… err… _shortcomings_ , right? I’m sure it’s all because of your hard work and _Godric,_ how the DIMC sorely needed some hardworking employees.”

Draco sighed and shook his head. “No use musing about it now,” he said. “I’m sure I’ve botched that interview.”

She looked like she was about to say something when their orders finally arrived. While the waiter was placing their food on the table, Draco took that opportunity to survey Hermione. She had dark bags under her eyes and looked paler than normal. She also looked tired and worn, and it didn’t need a genius to guess that her work was starting to get hectic.

“Lestrange’s case isn’t settled yet?” he asked once the waiter was out of earshot.

Hermione gave him a wary look. “No,” she said. “But that’s classified.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Potter wouldn’t persecute you if you told me Lestrange’s still being an arse,” he shot back, prompting her to quirk her lips into a small smile. “It’s been three months since you caught him without substantial evidence of a forming rebel group. It’s… _alarming_.”

The brunette sighed, blowing off some curly tendrils off her face, before brutally stabbing a steamed chicken meat on her plate. “We still have trouble making him confess,” she said. “And that’s the only thing I could tell you.”

“Of course,” he snarled. “It’s _classified_.”

Hermione gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Draco, you kn” –

Her words died down from her lips as she suddenly shot up from her seat. Horror and surprise were etched on her face, her eyes as wide as saucers and all the color draining from her face. Draco, alarmed, swiveled on his seat to look at the direction of her gaze.

He instantly saw Potter, who mirrored Hermione’s expression, and beside her was unmistakably Ginny Weasley. Draco vaguely remembered that she was out-of-the country for months due to her Quidditch matches.

The look on Ginny’s face had genuinely surprised him, her eyes dark, cold, and glaring. He felt a shiver run down his spine and he knew that a gaze like that was nowhere near friendly.

“G-Ginny,” Hermione stuttered, her eyes watering. “You’re back.”

The coldness in her eyes didn’t disappear. “I heard that my brother’s murderer had been caught and I had to be back,” she deadpanned, prompting Hermione to flinch. Draco couldn’t help but scowl at her heartless reply. Then, without another word, the youngest Weasley lifted her chin and swiveled around, storming out of the Muggle restaurant without a glance back. Draco saw how Hermione’s face crumpled with Ginny’s cold ignorance and felt slightly annoyed with the young witch’s reaction.

“So much for being classified,” the blond murmured under his breath, shooting a dark glare at Potter, knowing he was partly to be blamed.

Potter looked torn, eyes going back and forth between Hermione and the door. “I-I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he genuinely gushed. “I didn’t… I-I wasn’t…”

Hermione saved him from explaining by expelling a huge sigh. “It’s all right, Harry,” she said, managing to crack a small smile. “You should go after her.”

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he repeated one last time, before running out of the restaurant to catch up with his girlfriend.

Uncomfortable silence settled once Harry was gone. Hermione heavily plopped down on her chair as a small tear slipped down from her eye. Draco looked away in discomfort, not knowing what to do. He once again remembered how Weaslette and her mother accused Hermione as the reason for Ron Weasley’s death. Draco couldn’t understand it because it was _Lestrange_ who killed Ron, and the brunette across from him was trying her very best to prosecute that Death Eater who killed her husband.

“It… it wasn’t your fault Weasley’s dead,” Draco softly said, thinking it was the best thing to say.

To his surprise, Hermione released a soft, hollow laugh. “No, it was,” she tearfully replied. “It was all my fault.”

Draco wasn’t entirely privy to the whole Weasley family fiasco, and all he knew was that Lestrange killed Ron and she and Rose were shunned by the Weasley family. With Ginny Weasley’s reaction and Hermione’s cryptic answer, Draco now felt genuinely curious as to what really had happened. But then, seeing Hermione’s shaken demeanor, Draco bit his tongue and saved his curiosity for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to those who spotted the "A Very Potter Musical" reference!


	15. The Letter

Theo breathed in a huge sigh upon seeing that the library was not decorated with puke green anymore. Lovegood and some of his house-elves had been working on covering up the mess first with a coat of white, before the interior designer started her artistic magic and painted whatever the hell she wanted.

Luna had been working for a week already and those days merely consisted of painting everything white. She clearly underestimated the vastness of the Nott Manor, and had been amusingly disgruntled when she begrudgingly admitted it would take more than a month to finish painting the library. Theo, on the other hand, was thrilled with the news.

Now, it was a Wednesday and it meant she would be in his library once more. Theo had already painstakingly explained to his secretary to cancel any plans in the afternoons of Wednesdays and Fridays to foresee the renovation of the Nott library. Simply put, his secretary - a twiggy, lovely witch - eyed him in confusion but obliged nonetheless. Theo had conveniently left the detail that perhaps it was because he wanted to see Luna Lovegood in his home. It gave his stomach some strange somersaults just thinking about it once more.

Rolling his eyes, he saw the said blonde perched on the sill of one of the high windows in the library, already starting to paint the ceiling with a coat of black. She was currently wearing a loose, white shirt, with understandable paint splashes everywhere. Her Muggle, denim pants were also not spared, and there was a particularly huge, black blob on her right knee. Her hair was held up in a bun by a paintbrush, exposing her odd ensemble of butterbeer cork necklace and radish earrings.

“You’re back early,” Luna said in greeting, eyes still glued on the spot she was painting.

His house-elves, a good ten of them, stopped painting to look at him and give him eager, deep bows. With a wave of dismissal from their master, they all popped away, leaving him and Luna alone. She finally looked at him in question, probably wondering why the house-elves were gone and consequently making her job more difficult today.

“I have some matters to attend to,” he explained, waving his ‘business props’ of folders and papers. “They can be a little… _noisy_.”

“Don’t rich people like you have studies for business matters like that?” she asked, her voice soft and floaty. Luna climbed down the stairs and ditched her paintbrush to grab a treacle tart from a tray.

Theo gave a good-measured shrug. “My study’s a mess,” he said. “Also, I’m trying to avoid my stepmother and I know she’d steer clear off the library when she’s afraid some paint would soil her perfectly manicured hands.”

He then marched on one of the spared desks and sat on it. Most of the desks and bookshelves were covered with white cloth to spare them from any aberrant paints. Theo suggested before that she should just wave her bloody wand to conjure some protective barrier to preserve millions of books in the library. Luna, however, was not amused with his idea and even reminded him that _she_ was the interior designer between the two of them.

Luna grabbed a small teacup and leaned against the closest bookshelf. That was when Theo noticed that she was barefoot, prompting him to frown.

"Where are your shoes?” he demanded. “The floor is freezing.”

She shrugged, a small, dreamy smile on her face. “I work best when barefoot,” she explained, wriggling her toes. “The cold doesn’t bother me anyway.”

“No wonder people called you ‘ _Loony_ ’,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” she sang his way, striding closer and settling on a chair two desks away from him.

Sighing, he merely brandished out his wand and pointed it at her feet. Luna flinched a little, and he faltered, but when she didn’t pull out her own wand and pointed it at him, he finally muttered a warming spell. It was only after when he thought that perhapsshe didn’t bring her own wand. It was a stupid decision, especially if she always ventured in a house that held dark secrets that rivalled the Malfoy Manor.

Sighing in disapproval, he frowned at Luna, who merely looked back at him with a hint of amusement on her face.

Theo then mindlessly sifted through his papers, wanting to appear busy, but his eyes constantly gazed on the woman sitting a few feet away from him. He thought the paintbrush stuck through her hair was ridiculous, and he was thoroughly distracted by the black streak on her chin. It was driving him insane.

"I see you finally started painting the ceiling black,” he commented.

“I still think it is too dark for a library,” she pointed out, munching on her third treacle tart. “But I do have plans to amend that.”

He lifted an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “And what, pray tell, are your _plans_?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Luna gave a dreamy smile. “Do not concern yourself about it, Theo,” she assured. “Rest assured the Nott tradition will be kept, but with my few additions.”

He scowled at her secrecy, but knew she’d start talking cryptically if he probed further. If he recalled clearly, Luna Lovegood liked to give metaphors and riddles back in Hogwarts and he had no time for any guessing game. Although the papers were really just props and used as an excuse to stay in the library, it had been quite a busy day and Theo wanted to rest.

“I heard about Draco,” she then said, breaking the silence. “That was very brave of him.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Where did you hear that?” he asked. Besides the Nott Manor, Luna hadn’t stepped foot anywhere in Magical London.

Her cheeks colored a little, a small smile on her face. “I had been exchanging letters with Hermione ever since Rose’s birthday,” she revealed. “She gives me updates from time to time.”

Theo nodded his head in understanding. “I see,” he replied. “And yes, Draco was stupid enough to leave the Malfoy business to some buffoon to pursue his ministry dreams.”

“I think that was very brave of him,” she firmly repeated, looking at him with her wide, glassy eyes.

“Of course you’d think that,” he shot back.

“Have you ever thought of leaving the Nott business to some buffoon and pursue your own dreams, then?” she innocently asked, and Theo felt himself stiffen with her question. He carefully schooled any emotions on his face and had absentmindedly clutched the reports on his hands tighter.

Had he ever thought of leaving the Nott business and pursue his own dreams?

_Yes_. “None of your business,” he spat back, annoyed at the dangerous waters they were trudging on. He knew _she knew_ how he started hating living in the Wizarding World ever since the conclusion of the Second War. Sometimes, it just annoyed him that she had gladly given up everything she believed in, everything she grew up in, to venture in the muggle world, free from anything magical.

He wanted to believe it was merely annoyance, but of course he knew that what he was feeling was pure _envy_. The pressure of the Nott business was admittedly bothersome, and sometimes he could not stand staying in this manor housing memories of his fanatical father and the Dark Arts he so loved.

Perhaps, he should follow Draco and purchase some lovely flat to finally call home. _And_ apply to the ministry.

“I’m sorry,” Luna surprisingly said. “I didn’t mean to bring out the wrackspurts again.”

In spite of himself, Theo laughed. “Would you believe me if I tell you your beloved wrackspurts aren’t real?” he thought, secretly relieved that Luna’s oddness made him marginally better.

“No,” she plainly said.

“I thought so,” he replied with a grin. “You are entirely bonkers, Lovegood.”

She grinned widely at his words. “All the best people are,” she said, finally rising up from her seat and picking up her paintbrush.

Luna started to paint once again.

Theo was contented enough to watch her.

* * *

The letter was limp on his hands, clear disbelief still etched on Draco’s face. He tried rereading the letter, again and again, wondering if the lights were just playing tricks on him. The scribbled _‘Congratulations’_ seemed ominous enough, and it made him demand for Tippy to read the letter aloud to confirm (or dispute) his fears. Judging from the way Tippy had shrilly squealed and jumped up and down without even finishing the whole letter, he knew he wasn’t imagining things.

He got _accepted_. In the _ministry_.

It was still wonderfully surreal, but he could not deny the excitement that had bubbled ever since he caught sight of the Ministry letter. The letter was actually a week late as what McLaggen had promised and Draco was already losing hope that he got accepted at all. He had already penned a letter to be sent to Blaise to tell him he wouldn’t be assuming his position at all. Lo and behold, as he was preparing to send the letter to his former schoolmate, a ministry owl swooped down and dropped his acceptance letter.

It was like being accepted in Hogwarts all over again. Draco felt a little humbled that the ministry accepted him, despite his past misgivings, and perhaps this was his very first step to actually proving to the whole world that he wasn’t his father’s son.

He absentmindedly walked towards his fireplace, and it was only when he was looking at the floo powder when he realized what he was doing. Shaking his head in disbelief, he grabbed a pinch of the magical powder, threw it to the fire, and exclaimed, “24 Pond St., Hampstead!”

The fire roared emerald and Draco stuck his head inside. He waited until Hermione lifted the wards and her living room came into focus. The said brunette crouched down so she could look at him properly, a surprised smile on her face.

“Draco!” she exclaimed. “What made you firecall tonight?”

“I got accepted,” he sputtered out, the disbelief still clearly heard in his voice. “In the ministry. _Blimey_.”

If it was more possible, her grin widened. “That’s brilliant!” she gushed out. “I knew you’d – hang on.” He watched as Hermione craned her neck, a disapproving look on her face. “Rose Weasley, get down from that countertop this instant!”

“Mama!” he heard Rose whine. “I’m hungry.”

Hermione expelled a deep sigh and shook her head, a small smile now quirking on her lips. She looked back at Draco, her eyes lighting up with an idea. “Why don’t you come over and have dinner with us?” she asked. “I overestimated and made too much for dinner tonight.”

Draco looked hesitant. “I don’t think” –

“Oh, posh,” she flippantly said. “Come. Rose will love it if you do.”

The blond frowned but knew that Hermione wouldn’t take no for an answer. Sighing, he said, “All right. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Brilliant,” she said.

Draco pulled his head out from the fireplace and promptly called for Tippy. 

His personal house-elf instantly popped back, a questioning look on his face. “Does Master Draco wish Tippy to read the letter again?” he inquired, peering at the letter in question.

“No, no,” the blond said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be having my dinner with Granger and Rose so you don’t need to prepare a meal for me anymore.”

Tippy perked up upon hearing the names of their previous guests. “Yes, Master Draco,” he said, a small smile on his face. “Send Miss Hermione and Little Miss Rosie Tippy’s regards.” Then, he popped away even before he was dismissed.

Once Tippy was gone, Draco did some last minute errands. First, he penned a letter to the ministry acknowledging his acceptance, and then he sent another letter to Blaise to confirm that he would be stepping in for him next week once he starts working in the DIMC. Draco contemplated whether to send a letter to Theo too, but then thought it would be better to visit his friend instead.

After making sure that everything was all set, Draco threw another pinch of floo powder into the fireplace and exclaimed Granger’s address. He hadn’t even completely left the fireplace when Rose squealed and wrapped her arms around his middle. Draco toppled in surprise, managing to dislodge some soot from the fireplace, and consequently showering him and Rose (mostly him) with the soot and dirt. Draco horrifyingly inhaled most of them and promptly started coughing.

“Oh, Rosie, look what you’ve done,” Hermione clucked from behind, prying Rose’s arms away from Draco. She brandished her wand and cleaned them both. She also pointed her wand at Draco’s nostrils and muttered a charm, instantly clearing his airways.

“Bloody hell, menace,” Draco exclaimed once he could properly breathe. “You could have killed me from asphyxiation!”

“No bad words,” Hermione pointed out with a frown.

Rose, on the other hand, was sheepishly looking at Draco and her mother. “I’m sorry Draco,” she said with genuine regret, her eyes big, blue and shiny. “I got excited when Mama said you’re coming for dinner.”

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. “Glad to know I’ve been terribly missed,” he muttered under his breath, glare still in place. Secretly, however, he felt a little moved that the little girl still missed him.

“So dinner?” Rose asked in hope, looking at her mother.

“Go wash your hands first,” Hermione reminded.

“Okay!” Rose squealed then prompted to dash out from the living room.

Once her daughter was out of earshot, Hermione turned to Draco with a sheepish grin. “Her energy could be troublesome sometimes,” she lamented. “I’m sorry about the unpleasant welcome.”

Draco waved his hand dismissively then pulled out his acceptance letter from his pocket. “The more important matter here is I got _accepted_ , Granger,” he said. “In the _ministry_.”

She looked slightly confused with his declaration. “Yes, I know,” she said. “You’ve said.”

“Ex-Death Eaters don’t get accepted that easily,” he reminded, prompting her to scowl.

“Have you ever heard of giving second chances to those who most need it?” she shot back, turning around and leading him into the dining area. “There are plenty of alleged ex-Death Eaters working in the ministry, Draco. And from what I know, there had been no incident ever since they got hired.”

Draco scowled and took the seat across Hermione. “Henrik McLaggen doesn’t look like a person who gives _second chances_ , Granger,” he snarled back. “I’m sure if he could, he would have sent dementors instead to escort me to Azkaban. But then, seeing that dementors are currently _banned_ and locked up in Merlin-knows-where, he couldn’t do that. Instead, he sent me an ‘acceptance letter’, which might have been a trap to lure me to the ministry so he can personally escort me to Azkaban.”

Hermione was looking at him in sheer disbelief. “Elaborate plan, Draco,” she said, now completely amused. “I didn’t know your imagination can run that wild.”

His scowl darkened as he angrily pocketed the letter that may or may not be a trap. “Judging from the way he interviewed me, I honestly thought I won’t be accepted so pardon me if I’m being highly suspicious.”

Conflicting emotions crossed on her face and that was when Draco grew wary. Hermione avoided his piercing gaze and it just confirmed his suspicions.

“ _You_ –”

He wasn’t able to complete his sentence since Rose arrived and sat on the chair beside him.

All throughout dinner, Draco was trying to catch Hermione’s attention, but the brunette was sneakily diverting anything ministry-related to mundane things such as Rose’s new daycare and new friends.

“I like playing with Janna, Alex, Sophie, Danielle, and Frank,” Rose recounted, ticking off her fingers as she mentioned her new friends. “But Frank has a funny last name, and other kids bully him because of it. Oh, he cries easily, too and always carries his icky pet toad. It was very cute, but very icky too.”

The boy was strangely reminiscent of Neville Longbottom. Hermione, seeing that look on his face, nodded her head and smiled as confirmation.

“His father is a good man,” Draco seriously said, much to Hermione’s surprise. “Continue your acquaintance with Frank.”

He admittedly had incessantly bullied Longbottom for years, because _seriously_ , who wouldn’t with a name like that? But Draco had developed a deep respect for the Gryffindor, who bravely killed Voldemort’s creepy pet snake and rendered the Dark Lord mortal once more. Neville might have been a blubbering fool to most, but he was one of the truest Gryffindor’s Draco had ever seen.

Rose continued to recount her escapades all throughout dinner. Draco could see that Hermione was pleased her daughter already gained new, real friends. Based from her stories, Rose seemed well-liked in the daycare and Draco couldn’t understand the pride that suddenly bloomed in his chest.

Dinner finally came to an end when Rose released a wide yawn.

“Time to sleep, love,” Hermione said with a fond smile.

“Up, up,” Rose sleepily said, raising her arms and wriggling her fingers. Draco smirked upon seeing Hermione’s face, but the brunette nonetheless carried the growing girl into her arms.

“Blimey, you’re getting heavier and heavier,” Hermione said with a groan, but Rose merely chuckled and snuggled into her mother’s neck. Smiling, Hermione kissed the crown of Rose’s head and whispered, “Please don’t grow up too fast.”

Then, to Draco she said, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Maybe I should carry her instead,” Draco offered, amusedly looking at her shaking arms.

“Oh, thank Merlin, that would be nice,” Hermione confessed.

Rose had completely fallen asleep in her arms and thankfully didn’t wake when Hermione passed her off to Draco. His eyes widened a little once the girl was settled in his arms. “You weren’t kidding when you said she’s getting heavier,” he said, placing Rose into a comfortable position.

“She grows up every day,” the brunette mournfully revealed. “I fear that when I wake up tomorrow, she’d be eleven with a Hogwarts letter at hand.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You still have five years to coddle your daughter, Granger,” he shot back. “No need to get dramatic.”

Hermione merely sadly smiled and ushered him to follow her upstairs. She opened Rose’s bedroom and Draco still had to take some time to adjust with the bright colors in the little girl’s room.

“You really need to do something about her room,” Draco pointed out. “I don’t even know how you can come inside without getting nauseous.”

Hermione softly laughed as Draco placed Rose on her bed. “I finally found a solution,” she reassured. “Turns out Luna had been working as an interior designer in the Muggle world. She said she has some ideas on how to stop Rose’s accidental magic from turning her bedroom into a monstrous masterpiece. Currently, she’s handling another project, so I’m afraid she will only be able to work on it a few months from now.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow. “Lovegood as an interior designer?” he said with a frown. “But… she has _eccentric_ tastes.”

Hermione glared in offense. “She was actually a pretty good painter back in Hogwarts and I always thought she’d be a successful one,” she defended. “Get that ridiculous notion off your head.”

“All right, all right, Merlin, we weren’t even close,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Mama?” Rose suddenly said from her bed. Hermione’s eyes widened and shot an accusatory glare towards Draco, fully blaming him for waking up her daughter.

“What is it?” Hermione said, striding closer to her daughter’s bed so that Rose could see her.

A soft yawn tore from Rose’s mouth as she snuggled deeper under her covers. “Can you sing to me?” she whispered.

Despite the soft light in Rose’s room, Draco was able to see a small blush appear on Hermione’s face.

“Err… sure love,” she said, craning her head to look at the blond. She expectantly looked at Draco, and it took him a minute to understand what she was nonverbally trying to convey.

“Embarrassed that I’ll hear your voice, Granger?” he asked with a smirk.

“Go away, Malfoy.”

Rolling his eyes, perhaps for the nth time, Draco sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be downstairs.”

Hermione nodded her head in reply, then turned back to her daughter 

Draco quietly walked out from Rose’s room, fully intending to eavesdrop. If Granger was embarrassed he would hear her sing, he needed something to incessantly tease her in the future. It was too tempting not to eavesdrop. Thus, as a Slytherin, he was a sneaky bastard, and he conveniently left the door slightly ajar to listen.

Thankfully, Hermione didn’t take notice for he hadn’t heard any footsteps or a snarling Granger at the other side of the room.

_“Somewhere over the rainbow way up high.”_

He stood frozen on the spot, his jaw hanging open. Well, he wasn’t expecting _that_.

_“There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.”_

Draco found himself softly smiling in disbelief. Of course, he should have expected that. Granger always surprised him.

_“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue._ _And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true_.”

He didn’t realize that Hermione’s lullaby had already ended. The said witch opened the door and walked out of Rose’s bedroom, immediately seeing him leaning against the wall beside the door.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You were listening!” she whispered furiously, her cheeks reddening into a magnificent shade of red.

Draco lifted his pointy chin. “I was not,” he perfectly lied. “I forgot something, so I went back upstairs.”

“Liar,” she grumbled when Draco turned around and immediately walked down the stairs. “You didn’t even come inside to get whatever you forgot.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Granger,” he snapped, rolling his eyes at how she fumed. “And since we’re on the topic of accusing things at each other, you did something about my interview with the ministry, didn’t you?”

The annoyance in her eyes disappeared, replaced by sheer sheepishness. She didn’t need to answer anything to know what the truth was, really.

“Don’t you dare lie because I can see it in your eyes,” he warned, glaring when he could see the gears whirring inside her mind, probably to formulate an elaborate lie.

“Fine, _all right_ , I may have done something,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. “Henrik McLaggen is an unfair prat and I don’t think you deserve to be mindlessly set aside because of your past. I mean _, damn it all_ , Draco, I can see you trying to change and it makes my blood boil how people already closed their minds on the fact that people change. That you have changed.”

He was stunned into silence, eyes wide, heart beating a little too wildly, as he stared at the bushy-haired witch opposite him.

Hermione’s fiery eyes softened a bit upon seeing the look on his face. “Besides, I’m a bloody war heroine, Draco,” she said with a small smile. “I think my opinions matter to the ministry. It took me a while before I finally convinced them that you need a second chance.”

Draco couldn’t help but slightly sneer. “Bad people do not deserve any second chances,” he muttered under his breath.

To his surprise, Hermione reached out for his hand and gave it a slight squeeze. “I don’t think someone who enjoys amusement parks and cries over cartoons can be classified as a bad person.”

His cheeks reddened. “I didn’t _cry_ ,” he protested back, pulling his hand away.

“All right, keep telling that to yourself,” she said with a triumphant grin.

He glared, prompting her to chuckle.

“Just… just accept it, Draco. Go to work, prove them all wrong,” she continued with a strange glint in her eyes. “I think… I think you’re  _brilliant_ and I’m tempted to punch you on your nose again just to put some sense in that thick head of yours.”

His glare melted, now softly gazing at her. “I…” he faltered, cheeks coloring, but he couldn’t look away from her eyes. “Thank you, Granger.”

She gently smiled at him and shooed him away, declaring that it had actually been a particularly tiring day for them all.   

Bidding her goodnight, Draco walked towards the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of the floo powder. Instead of going straight home, he stumbled into Nott Manor.

“Master Draco,” Stimpy, the oldest house-elf of the Nott family, greeted with a deep bow. “What brings you here?”

“Is Theo here?” Draco asked.

Stimpy nodded. “Stimpy will alert Master Theodore with your presence, Master Draco,” he said, promptly disappearing. He reappeared after just a few seconds. “Master Theodore expects you in the Nott library.”

Draco said his thanks and journeyed to the library. He slightly shivered, remembering some not-so-pleasant memories in this place. Although considerably cheerier than his childhood home, the Nott Manor still held a lot of bad memories. Draco wondered how Theo could still stomach living here, knowing that Voldemort once had a sleepover in his own home.

Those thoughts were pushed at the back of his mind as he finally arrived in the library. Upon entering, Draco took a brief double take at the half-finished state of the Nott library. The puke green color it once sported was thankfully gone, replaced by a room of half-white, half-black paint. Theo was perched on one of the desks at the white side of the library, a book at hand.

“What brings you here in the middle of the night?” Theo called out with a frown. There was some underlying worry in his eyes, prompting Draco to shake his head.

“I got accepted in the ministry.”

The mousy-haired man placed his book on the table and lifted an eyebrow. “For real?” he asked, mildly surprised. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve always thought your plan was doomed to fail from the very start.”

Draco gave him a dark glare. “Well, it was nice to know you have so much faith in me, Nott,” he snarled back.

Theo rolled his eyes, watching as Draco sauntered closer and sat on the table in front of Theo’s. “I told you not to take it the wrong way, you bastard,” he snapped.

“Apparently, the ministry is big on giving second chances and shite,” Draco replied.

“I didn’t take Henrik McLaggen as the giving-second-chances type.”

“ _Exactly_.” The blond crossed his arms across his chest and frowned. “Granger did something and now I’m bloody hired.”

To his surprise, Theo snickered.

“What?” he demanded.

“Hermione Granger, War Heroine Extraordinaire, Champion of the Poor and Downtrodden,” Theo declared. “You should have expected this.”

“I’m going to assure you that I am most certainly not _poor_ ,” Draco said with an arrogant sniff. The downtrodden part, well…

Theo sighed and leaned against the desk, copying Draco’s posture. “Granger’s a bleeding Gryffindor at heart,” he said. “You know how she’d do everything she could for the people she cared about.”

Draco frowned at Theo’s words. “She doesn’t care about me,” he shot back. “She’s only doing this to repay my kindness for taking care of her daughter.”

His best friend rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re really obtuse, Draco, do you know that?” he replied. “If you think she’s merely repaying your kindness, then I don’t think it is necessary she invites you over for dinner, yeah?”

Draco couldn’t think of a decent reply, silenced by Theo’s troublesome words. He had thought about this too, of course. He kept on convincing himself that Hermione was just being kind because he took care of Rose while she was away. They’d been partners during missions and had been reluctant acquaintances. It’s too farfetched to think that she somehow, _probably_ , saw him as a friend now, wasn’t it?

But then, he’d remember her dinner invites, their banters that were nowhere near dangerous, and how she seemed to bring her guard down every time he was around. She even pointed quite a few times that she considered him a friend, but Draco sometimes thought she was just being too polite.

“I don’t know why you’re still in denial, Draco,” Theo finally said, snapping him off his thoughts. “I know how the war made us different people, but I think you deserve to be happy, too, you know.”

His words held too much meaning and Draco wasn’t ready to acknowledge anything yet. “This conversation is getting ridiculous, Nott,” he growled, pushing himself away from the desk. “I’m leaving.”

He stomped away from the library, but apparently Theo wasn’t finish.

“Why can’t you just bloody admit you’ve been in love with her all these years?” his best friend exclaimed, prompting him to stop in his tracks. “It’s fucking annoying seeing you dance around your feelings, Draco. Breaking news, the war has bloody ended, Ronald Weasley is bloody dead, and you’re being invited over to dinner, _damn it_. I’ve watched from the sidelines and all I can say is you’ve waited for her for too long. What the hell is stopping you now?”

“Shut up, Nott, if you know what’s good for you,” Draco snarled. Theo threw his arm above his head but had thankfully kept his mouth shut as Draco stomped away and flooed back home.

His head had hurt when he threw himself on top of his bed. Draco didn’t even bother changing his clothes, his ears still ringing from Theo’s ridiculous words.

He had congratulated himself for not thinking about his _feelings_ ever since he started becoming a Death Eater. Feelings were dangerous if you were working under Voldemort. It was a weakness; something Draco had masterfully masked away to keep the Dark Lord from hurting the people he truly cared about. But now… _now_ Theo’s words had released a huge dam he couldn’t contain anymore.

“Holy shite,” he murmured against his pillow, realizing he was in too deep already.

Damn it all, now he didn’t know what to do.


	16. The First Week

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re worried for me, Granger.”

Hermione flinched and hastily hid behind the nearest pillar she could find. She heard Draco release a huge sigh, followed by the unmistakable screeching of the chair, and his footsteps. Before she could completely dash out of the Muggle restaurant, Draco already found where she was hiding.

“O-oh, hi, Draco, what a coincidence, right? I didn’t know you were also in this restaurant today.”

“Cut the crap, Granger,” Draco said with an amused smirk. “I saw you skulking around even before I got here. Now I know there’s a reason why you weren’t sorted in Slytherin.”

“Besides the fact that I’m Muggle-born and your Founder hated people like me?” she asked with an innocent smile.

Draco sighed, but she was able to catch how his lips quirked up a bit in an almost smile. “What are you doing here, Granger?” he then asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“It’s lunch time,” Hermione reasoned out. “Isn’t it perfectly normal for me to spend my lunch break in this… this…” She gestured at the restaurant she surely hadn’t been in before and spied the closest meal from her. “- this… sandwich place.”

He was smirking down at her, still looking completely amused. “Yes, and you and I both know that you don’t like sandwiches,” he pointed out.

Hermione made a face, also quite surprised that Draco remembered this particular quirk of hers, before saying, “Fine, all right, I was following you.”

“Because?”

She heaved a huge sigh and frowned. “Because _nothing_ ,” she said. “I saw you come here and followed without thinking.”

Draco merely lifted an eyebrow and Hermione knew she had no other choice but to concede and tell the truth.

“Ugh, fine, I was worried,” she said, refusing to looking into Draco’s eyes. Her cheeks reddened a little in embarrassment, not quite sure why she felt self-conscious with her confession. “I heard from some people that McLaggen was giving you a hard time and well, since I have some free time of my own, I decided to check up on you today. But then, I saw you eating happily on that table and debated whether to approach you or not. I also wondered if I should buy some sandwich or not, because _gods_ , I hate eating them and – why are you smirking?”

If it was possible, his smirk widened, and Hermione’s eyes narrowed.

“You knew I was following you so you chose this restaurant just to rile me up,” she hissed in accusation.

“Probably,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

“You sneaky bastard,” Hermione growled, her cheeks reddening more in annoyance.

A full blown grin appeared on his face, catching her quite off guard. “There’s a salad place across from here,” he said, then walked out of the restaurant, leaving a dumbfounded Hermione behind. She was only shaken away from her reverie when Draco had completely walked out the door, and she immediately followed suit.

“I hate you,” she lamely said, prompting him to chuckle in response. Hermione felt a little bummed out she was caught spying on him. In addition, she was actually quite hungry and her Auror work for today had been stressful and tiring. All in all, it wasn’t a good time to prank Hermione Granger.

Such thoughts were momentarily forgotten when they finally entered the restaurant and Hermione’s hunger consumed her. She immediately ordered a Caesar salad, paid for her meal, and searched for Draco amongst the crowd. She spied him at one of the secluded corners and approached, annoyed that he still had that stupid smirk on his face.

“I was bloody worried for you, but then I realized it was stupid of me, because you’re still acting as your usual self, bloody bastard,” she greeted with the annoyed frown still on her face.

“Three curses in a sentence, Granger,” Draco said, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Rose will have a fit if she heard her mother talking like that.”

Hermione merely sighed and deflated on her seat, annoyed and tired at the same time that Draco was being difficult today. It just backed up her worry that something was definitely wrong and he most likely wouldn’t share what he was feeling right now.

“Would it really kill you if you tell me what’s wrong?” she softly asked.

The smirk on his face fell into a frown. Before he could answer, their food arrived and they ate in silence.

As she ate, Hermione recalled hearing from one of her colleagues how McLaggen was treating Draco on his very first week in the ministry. Normally, she didn’t engage in any gossip, most especially in her workplace, but she was quite worried of the blond. She really wanted to check up on him, but the Lestrange case had swamped her for the week. Hence, she settled on gossiping with her workmates, even if it made her terribly ill inside.

According to her sources, McLaggen had given Draco most of the menial desk jobs of the department. Hermione knew Draco would have hated that, remembering all his woes of working on the Malfoy business on his chair, in his study, busy with all the paperwork his company demanded. Of course, as a newbie, she knew it was perfectly normal to work on these menial jobs instead. But then, when she heard that the paperwork had him work overtime for the past seven days, Hermione became worried.

Peering at Draco right now, she fully saw how exhausted he was. The dark bags under his eyes were prominent, his high cheekbones a little sallow and grey. He was everything a sleep-deprived employee looked like and Hermione silently cursed Henrik McLaggen for being such an arse. She secretly added cursing Cormac because he was annoying, too, and Hermione still didn’t like him one bit.

“I can hear your brain, you know,” he pointed out after a few minutes of silence.

Hermione flinched in surprise, then sheepishly looked at Draco. “Yes, well, Harry and Ron used to tell me that my brain talks too loud,” she said.

Instead of smiling, Draco sighed and leaned back on his chair. “Granger, I’m really fine,” he finally said. “There are, _admittedly_ , some minor inconveniences but they’re nothing compared working under the Dark Lord. Although, McLaggen is a close second.”

She knew she shouldn’t smile at his bad joke, but Draco wore a lazy smirk on his face and she couldn’t help herself. “I don’t think the people in the Ministry would say what you are experiencing are ‘minor inconveniences’, Draco,” she pointed out.

“I didn’t know you engage in workplace gossip.”

Hermione lightly blushed at his comment and glowered. “If it’s the only way I can know how you are doing during your first week, then I’d gladly engage in them,” she snapped back.

“You have more pressing matters to attend to than… than worry about me,” he said, complete with an eye roll. “I’m a grown up. I can take care of yourself. I don’t need you to _mother_ me, _Mother_.”

“Merlin, Draco, why can’t you just accept that some people are going to start worrying about you?” she asked in exasperation. “You’re my friend. Let me worry about you.”

His jaw tightened as something flashed before his eyes. Hermione was slightly taken aback at the sudden emotions on his face she could not decipher at all. But then, they were gone quite soon and she was once again staring back at the stoic expression of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione sighed. If only he would start opening up a little bit more, maybe things would be better for him.

_And her_ , since she was such a worrywart and she bloody well hated it.

“McLaggen’s being a git,” he grumbled, shifting his gaze away from Hermione. “He works me like a bloody house-elf. If the Avada becomes legalized, he’d be the first one to receive mine.”

Hermione smiled despite his morbid promise. “There you go, that’s a start,” she encouraged.

Draco scowled and looked back at her, this time with a light tinge on both of his cheeks. “That’s the only thing you can out get from me, Granger,” he snarled. “Now, go back to work before your department head finds out you’ve been slacking off because of me and gives me a hard time, too.”

“Okay, but not before I invite you over for dinner tonight,” she hopefully asked. It was honestly an impulsive thing to ask, and Hermione mentally cursed herself because she had to go home extra early to prepare more dinner for later.

That same expression on Draco’s face appeared once more. This time, he was unsuccessful to hide behind his perfectly crafted mask and instead looked anywhere but her. Hermione didn’t understand why he suddenly looked flustered with her request when she had always been asking him over, and he would always agree without any hesitation.

“Apologies, but I can’t come over tonight,” he replied. “I have some Malfoy business to attend to with Zabini.”

“Oh,” she said, confused with the sudden disappointment she felt. “Okay.”

Draco nodded his head and stared right back at her. Her eyes widened a little at all the emotions on his face and watched as the blond promptly stood up from his seat.

“I have to go,” he said. “McLaggen will kill me if he discovered I extended my lunch time.”

He left without any further goodbyes, and Hermione was left staring at his retreating back in complete, utter confusion.

* * *

Head buried under piles and piles of documents, Draco was starting to really understand that working for the ministry was a stupid thing to do.

McLaggen was extra harsh to him on his very first week in the ministry and Draco had an inkling Hermione backing him up with his acceptance had worsened McLaggen’s impression of him. His coworkers had steered clear off him ever since his first day, which was perfectly fine for him because he wasn’t really interested in socializing with them. One downside to his isolation was the fact that his job usually was slower because his coworkers weren’t being too cooperative and prioritizing his papers.

' _Which is okay,’_ Draco told himself a hundred times that week. _‘Totally okay.’_

The only person he had some semblance of communication with was McLaggen’s twitchy assistant, Reggie Jones, and mostly it was because McLaggen had always sent him to give Draco more work.

Simply put, everything was a total disaster and he hated himself he didn’t listen to his best friend.

Speaking of him, Draco still hadn’t forgiven Theo for saying those blasted words to him the last time he dropped by in his house. He mentally cursed himself, remembering how he acted oddly when Granger joined him for lunch yesterday. The whole ordeal was cringe-worthy and he congratulated himself he merely broke down by the end of their lunch break.

Theo had really gotten into his head. When Hermione said she wanted to worry for him as a friend… when she invited him to another dinner in her flat… It was all too much for his poor heart and he knew he had to leave before he started to do stupid things.

Like profess that he may or may not have loved her ever since Hogwarts.

“Fuck you, Nott,” Draco growled, voice still muffled by all the mountain of papers on his desk. His first week in the ministry was too stressful already and he didn’t need an added stress such as feelings as of the moment.

“Mister Malfoy, are you slacking off?”

The blond inhaled deeply through his nostrils before peeling away the papers from his head. Then, as calmly as he could, he looked at his boss and lightly shook his head. “Of course not, Mister McLaggen,” he said. “That wouldn’t look well in my record now, would it?”

Beardy narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, and Draco half-expected that he would point his fat finger at his direction and accuse him of fixing another Vanishing Cabinet in his department to bring in his non-existent Death Eater friends.

“Meeting room. Now.” He then left without another word and Draco was honestly disappointed there were no accusations that happened.

Sighing, he gathered some pertinent files into his hands and walked to the meeting room. He ignored the gawking and sat on his designated seat, cramped between a large man who occasionally breathes through his mouth (an accidental curse had permanently damaged his nostrils) and a woman in her early thirties who kept on fidgeting, mostly because of the anxiety of sitting beside an ex-Death Eater. Draco had creatively christened them as Mouth Breather and Fidgety without even bothering to learn their names.

The meeting commenced and McLaggen yammered on and on about the usual department successes and failures for the last month and Draco found himself zoning out three fourths of the time. All he could deduce was that McLaggen was a proud man and he blamed all the mishaps his department had undergone for the past month to his employees. Draco had been sneering at him for hours, wondering why this buffoon was sorted in Gryffindor at his obvious lack of loyalty, but then again he didn’t have enough brains to be sorted into Ravenclaw or ambition to be in Slytherin. Hufflepuff was _definitely_ off the table because this man was nowhere near friendly.

McLaggen had stopped talking and was now glowering at him. Draco, with a jolt, wondered if he had talked out loud, also noticing how everybody was looking at him, too.

“Mister Malfoy,” McLaggen called. “Do I need to repeat myself or do you not plan on presenting your proposal anymore?”

“Right,” Draco said with a sigh, mentally cursing himself for being caught zoning out. He then immediately stood up from his seat and took McLaggen’s spot. His boss was still glaring at him, which he pointedly ignored, and instead looked at his other colleagues.

Clearing his throat, he started. “I reviewed our finances for last month and noticed that the department is spending too much on international travel,” he started.

“I don’t think that’s surprising seeing we are the DIMC,” Mouth Breather joked, prompting the other members to chuckle under their breaths. McLaggen’s eyes lit up in amusement and smirked at Draco.

The blond tried his best not to roll his eyes and continued. “Of course,” he said. “But I also reviewed the _means_ of travel and noticed that our members opted to use International Portkeys most of the time.” He brandished out his wand and waved it in front, projecting a pie chart of his presentation. “International Portkeys cost almost five galleons per travel and” – he waved his wand again, with a new bar graph projected – “since our department usually has 500 international travels yearly, International Portkey-ing will roughly cost us about 2,500 galleons a year.”

“And?” McLaggen prodded. “I’m sure as the Malfoy heir that amount is just a smidge for you, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco breathed through his nose and forced a small smirk on his face. “Of course,” he said. “And perhaps the reason why my vault continues to flourish with riches may be because I know how to spend _smartly_.”

McLaggen’s beard twitched and Draco mentally cursed his stupid, stupid mouth once more. “What are you insinuating, boy?” he barked. The whole meeting room had gone deathly quiet as they all expectantly looked at Draco for his reply.

“What I’m _insinuating_ is that International Portkey-ing is quite an expensive means of travel,” he calmly responded, his eyes never leaving McLaggen’s. “Which is why I’m suggesting that we build more fireplaces that will solely be for International Floo for travels and consequently visits from members of foreign ministries.”

Everybody started talking at once, mostly protesting his idea, and McLaggen had started laughing quite loudly at his expense.

“International Floo?” his boss snorted, wiping away some tears of mirth from his eyes. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know how much its building costs or do you need to do some computations first?”

Draco glared, waving his wand again, to project his plans on International Floo and how it would save the finance of this department. “Yes, I know, that it will be expensive to build these fireplaces,” he said, his voice a tad louder to be heard amidst all the protests, “but in the long run, they would be handier and cheaper compared to constantly applying for International Portkeys. We have to apply for these portkeys a _month_ prior to our supposed travels since it requires advance and complex magic. But, they do not consider the possibility of any cancellations of travels or extension of any dates. Doing these will also cost additional money, at least five galleons or so, and based on our travels last month” – he waved his wand again, a projected number now above the meeting table – “this department had roughly spent 10,000 galleons for all international travels, cancelled or not.”

The noise had died down and Draco smirked at how dumbstruck everybody was.

“Blimey, even a Malfoy _heir_ like me knew it is quite a lot,” Draco said, directing these words to McLaggen, who bristled on his seat. “Although building fireplaces for International Floo Network may cost us more than 10,000 galleons, their usage per travel will merely cost at least two galleons, roughly amounting to 1,000 galleons a year. Cancellation of travels or moving to a later date will of course cost _nothing_ because you just simply don’t waste any floo powder.”

Draco felt like puffing out his chest when Fidgety was trying her very best not to smile at his comment.

“The American, French, and Japanese Ministries of Magic have already started transitioning to the use of International Floo Network more than Portkey-ing and their expenses had been decreased ever since,” Draco added for finality.

“I see,” McLaggen said, absentmindedly rubbing his bloated belly. “But, I’m sure you are quite aware that International Floo has a high incidence of mishap more than Portkey-ing, what with its vast connections and such. We don’t want our members accidentally travelling to Asia when they merely need to go to France now, do we?”

Draco nodded his head, having thought of this problem beforehand. “I’m quite aware of that, yes,” he said. “But, as what I’ve said, International Floo had already been promoted in America, France, and Japan and spellcasters were able to develop a spell that will ensure the safe, _correct_ travel of our ambassadors. We may either just hire these said spellcasters or train our own.”

Before McLaggen could answer, the door had opened and in came a frazzled Hermione Granger. “I’m sorry for being late, there was an emergency,” the brunette said. She sat down on one of the farthest chairs in the table and smiled at Draco. “Please continue.”

Draco stared at her, surprised that no one was batting an eye at the fact that _Hermione Granger_ , a bloody _Auror_ , was in their meeting. “W-what are you doing here?” he asked, scowling partly because he was caught off-guard with her presence and partly because he bloody stuttered.

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. “Well,” she started, “as ministry employees that require a ton of travelling internationally, our department head thought it would be best if he sends representatives to DIMC meetings to discuss any international matters that the aurors may be facing as of the moment.”

She made perfect sense, but it still frustrated him that _nobody_ had even told him that. _‘Oh right, of course,’_ he mentally thought. _‘I have no friends here.’_

“If you don’t have any more questions, Mister Malfoy, I hope you continue soon,” Hermione said with a cheeky smile on her face. “Some of us are also needed outside this meeting room.”

This time, Draco did not even bother suppressing his eye roll. He deliberately ignored the affronted gasps of his other colleagues and how Granger’s smile widened.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Draco said through gritted teeth, shooting a glare at Hermione’s way, “to ensure the correct designation of the International Floo Network, we may hire some spellcasters or train our own.”

“And who would train these people if we chose that option?” McLaggen asked. “Wouldn’t we still hire spellcasters to train these people?”

Draco nodded his head. “Yes, but then I thought it will be more cost-efficient if we have our _own_ spellcasters,” he explained.

“A convention for Modern International Floo Network will be held in Japan next month,” Hermione suddenly piped in, browsing through a set of documents on the table. “I did some of my own research and part of their program include training spellcasters for proper and safe travel. I’m sure if your department will be able to secure a spot in this convention, some of your members may already be certified spellcasters.”

“I was getting to that, but yes,” Draco snapped, glaring darkly at Hermione.

“ _If_ , of course, your proposal gets approved in the first place,” McLaggen interjected.

Draco frowned at his boss, actually quite confident already that they would push through with his plans.

“Sir,” the blond said, “I still believe this is a brilliant plan. We have other programs that need a bigger budget.”

“This department had worked splendidly with just the use of International Portkey in the past, Malfoy,” his beardy boss replied. “I’m not quite sure we are ready to transition to solely using International Floo.”

Draco sighed and had to restrain the urge of running his hand through his hair. “But it is -”

“Your thirty minutes is up,” McLaggen said. “Try pitching your idea on the next meeting again.” He then looked at the other people in the room and said, “Santiago, come on right up here so we can discuss something more worthwhile, like our _Christmas party_.”

His eyes almost bulged out of his sockets, feeling pure indignation, as Santiago, the Fidgety lady that sat beside him, stood up from her chair and strode in front. Draco, knowing he couldn’t do anything anymore, stiffly walked out from his place towards his chair.

“Frankly, Mister McLaggen, I think your department’s financial status is more pressing than a… _Christmas party,_ yes?” Hermione sweetly asked, a small smile on her face, as she looked at Draco’s boss.

The blond looked at Hermione with narrowed eyes, but the auror was too busy staring at McLaggen, who was starting to get a little uncomfortable on his seat.

“Why, yes of course, Miss Granger,” his boss spluttered, “but I think switching to International Floo and building more fireplaces is more troublesome than using the good ol’ fashioned International Portkey.”

“The DIMC had been asking for an increase in budget for renovations of certain rooms in this department but have always been denied,” Hermione said. “Don’t you think your expenditures have something to do with it?”

McLaggen’s beard twitched again, but the smile on his face was unmistakable, if not a little unsettling. “International travel is quite expensive,” he reasoned out. “DIMC cannot help spending if they need to do their job.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow and leaned slightly forward, so she could fully look Henrik McLaggen in the eye. “Do you know why the Auror Department have _wonderful_ toilets or swiveling chairs you coveted so much, Mister McLaggen?” she inquired, an innocent smile on her face. “A little bird told me that _some_ speculated it’s because The-Boy-Who-Lived and the Golden Girl are being given special treatment.”

Draco knew if McLaggen’s face wasn’t covered with hair, he would be as red as a tomato right now.

“I think it is more of because our department knows how to spend wisely and not carelessly throw our money on some _good, ol’ fashioned_ things.”

McLaggen was a spluttering mess and Draco kind of felt bad for him. _Kind of_.

“Oh, look at the time,” Hermione said with a suddenly dazzling smile on her face. “I apologize but this Golden Girl needs to go back to work now. I hope to hear some progress on Mister Malfoy’s brilliant plan. Good day to all of you.”

Suffice to say, the room was reduced to silence even after Hermione was completely gone from the meeting room.

* * *

“What the hell were you thinking?” Draco growled as he finally cornered Hermione in one of the break rooms in the ministry.

“Oh, and hello to you too, Draco,” Hermione greeted with a pleasant smile on her face.

A low growl escaped from the blond’s mouth, his hold on Hermione’s arm tightening. “What the hell happened in that meeting?” he snapped.

“I just backed up your bloody ass,” she replied, growing annoyed. “Why are getting so worked up on this?”

“ _Granger_ ,” he grounded out, “I don’t need you to fight my battles. I can do it on my own.”

Hermione sighed and pulled her arm away. “I know that, Draco,” she said. “But I seriously think your plan was brilliant and McLaggen was stupid enough to brush it away. I mean 10,000 galleons for International Portkey alone? No wonder their requests for renovations are being denied.”

“Damn it, Granger, I knew it wouldn’t be approved on my first try,” he snapped, crossing his arms against his chest. “It is a huge deal. A _huge change_. Of course this would make McLaggen uncomfortable, which is why I will try to search for other means to convince him.”

The witch frustratingly ran a hand through her hair and glared. “I’ve talked your plan over some of my auror colleagues and they thought it was brilliant,” she said. “I just want McLaggen to know that your proposal may give him the swiveling chairs he bloody wanted.”

“Yes, thank you for your heroic rescue, because now he hates me more than before and thinks I’m too cowardly to stand up for my own proposals.” Draco had some sense of smugness when she withered with his words. “Now, I’m quite sure the International Floo Network wouldn’t be realized in the near future. On a bloody brighter note, I got Mouth Breather for our annual Secret Santa and now I have to find a gift for him.”

Hermione mouthed the nickname, but knew not to comment on it. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry, Draco. I wasn’t thinking what the consequences would be with my action.”

“You should be,” he spat. “Bloody Gryffindor’s always going headfirst in fights without thinking about it clearly.”

“Oh Merlin, now I feel bad,” she groaned. “I just… I got so mad when I saw McLaggen and my mouth wouldn’t stop working.” Remorse flittered on her face. “I think I need to talk to McLaggen and apologize for my behavior in the meeting this morning.”

“Gods, Granger, I want you not to do anything anymore,” Draco said, pining her with a glare. “I’ll do something about this. I can handle this. Just… just don’t come swooping in and rescuing the day.”

In spite of herself, she lightly smiled. “I’m really sorry, Draco, for making this harder for you,” she sincerely said, followed by a sigh. “I was… I was just really worried.”

_“You know how she’d do everything she could for the people she cared about.”_

 Draco colored, Theo’s words once again ringing in his ears, and he scowled. _‘Not now, Theo,’_ he thought.

“So, am I off the hook?” she hopefully asked, a pretty smile on her face. Draco thought it was bloody unfair.

“If you start rescuing me from other office bullies, I’m going to stop going to your dinners all together,” he warned, a serious glint in his eyes.

Hermione emitted a mock, hurt gasp and placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, Draco, that would be devastating,” she said as she tried to fight a smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Quit it,” he said, although missing the menacing tone he wanted to project.

She then fully grinned. “So, will you go to our dinner tonight this time?” she hopefully asked.

He debated whether to come, still quite unsettled with Theo’s enlightening words. But, admittedly, he thought it was kind of her to back him up against his dastardly boss and _well_ , he did miss Rose already so – “All right. But I can’t stay long. I still have a mountain of paperwork to finish.”

“Okay!” she exclaimed. “See you tonight, Draco!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, okay, so the International Portkey vs. International Floo Network is purely made up haha


	17. The Muggle London Adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry I wasn't able to update yesterday. It was Christmas Eve and I was busy celebrating hahaha. Anyway, Merry Christmas everybody!

“Oh no, we ran out of eggs!”

Draco peeked at the kitchens and lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps it’s not a good time for me to join you and Rose for dinner today,” he pointed out with an amused smile. He then proceeded to tuck his wand inside his pocket and gathered his coat, but Rose had already barreled herself towards him.

“You can’t go!” Rose cried indignantly. “You just got here, Draco.” Her blue, wide eyes landed on her mother and she pouted. “Tell Draco he can’t leave yet, Mama.”

The blond expectantly looked at the older witch, but Hermione merely sighed. “Without the eggs, I can’t really finish preparing for dinner today.” Hermione grimaced at the small mess in her kitchen. “We can get some take-away but I’ve already prepared enough. It’ll be a terrible waste.”

“We can buy groceries!”

Hermione’s eyes lit up and smiled. “That is actually a great idea, Rosie,” she replied. “Go get your coat so we can leave already.”

“Can Draco come too? Please please please?”

“Only if he wants to,” Hermione said, directing her questioning gaze on him.

Draco frowned. “We’re going in a Muggle one, aren’t we?” he asked, his frown deepening.

“Well,” Hermione started, “we are in a Muggle neighborhood and the closest thing is a Muggle one.” She glanced at Rose and smiled. “I think Rosie meant a Muggle grocery too, and we don’t want to disappoint her now, do we?”

The blond wizard sighed. “Whatever,” he said. “Not like I have any choice.”

After Rose got her coat and Hermione grabbed her trusted beaded bag from her room, Draco watched as the brunette snatched a set of keys he had never seen before. Upon noticing his questioning look, Hermione threw a conspiratorial grin. “We’re going to travel in our car,” she explained. “It is in Muggle London, after all. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve used our car.”

Draco’s eyes bulged out as he trailed behind the mother and daughter. “You have a _car_?” he blurted out. “How come I didn’t know this?”

“You never ask.”

Hermione looked over her shoulder to give him an amused smile. They finally arrived in her garage and there was a small silver sedan parked neatly inside. Draco was not exactly knowledgeable with cars; the closest thing he knew was that they’d cost a fortune since the Muggle car company he was affiliated to filled the Malfoy Gringotts account with unimaginable wealth.

“Do you know how to drive?” Draco asked, paling.

Rose already climbed at the back and pressed a button to bring down the window. “Come sit beside me, Draco,” she pleaded.

“I know how to drive,” Hermione said, shooting him another amused look. “Don’t worry. I won’t crash this car and kill you.”

If it was more possible, her words made him paler. Draco scowled at Hermione, who merely giggled under her breath. She already climbed into the front seat and Draco had no choice but to follow suit. Rose scooted to the far left to give him some room.

Blinking, he looked all over the weird interior of the Muggle contraption. He half-expected Lucius to suddenly appear and drag him away from the car, memories of his Muggle car obsession during his toddler years resurfacing in his mind.

“Draco,” Hermione called, “can you please help Rose with her seatbelt?”

He wordlessly nodded her head and fumbled with the seatbelt. He bungled the first try, earning him some giggles from Rose. Upon the second try, the child already helped him direct where to put it correctly.

“All set, then?” Hermione glanced over her shoulders to smile at her excited daughter and the nervous blond. Her eyes roamed the backseat critically and after being satisfied, she looked straight ahead and ignited the car.

Draco instinctively grabbed ahold of Rose’s right hand. Rose squealed in protest and tried to wiggle her fingers away. “Draco, let go!” she exclaimed. “My fingers hurt.”

“Don’t be scared, Draco,” Hermione teased as she finally eased the car out of the garage.

He shot a glare at Hermione’s bushy head whilst loosening his death grip on Rose. “Who said I’m scared?” he demanded, his cheeks flooding due to a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. “Just bloody drive Granger.”

Hermione chuckled and let his cursing slide.

“Mama, may you please play some music?” her daughter politely asked.

“Disney?”

“Disney,” Rose confirmed with a wide grin.

Draco watched as Hermione pressed some more buttons before music blared out from the speakers. He recognized the song from a movie Rose forced him to watch with her about a little mermaid and her quest to win the heart of the prince. Draco made a face; he’d encountered a few mermaids before and one thing he knew was that they were nowhere near pleasant.

Rose sang along to the music, perfectly knowing all the lines to the song. Draco rolled his eyes when Hermione joined in soon and during their short ride, the mother and daughter sang about gadgets and gizmos aplenty, and being part of someone’s world.

Simply put, it was annoying.

When they finally arrived in the grocer, Hermione parked it somewhere behind the supermarket and ushered them both outside. Draco curiously peered at the building and spied some bustling Muggles pushing around some weird Muggle basket with wheels. He had seen Muggle groceries from the telly and had been admittedly curious.

“Come on,” Rose said, grabbing one of his big hands and pulling him inside.

His eyes widened when the door automatically opened for them. He wildly looked for the source, swearing this was a work of magic, but found none.

“It’s automatic,” Hermione explained, looking at him in amusement. “There’s a sensor somewhere. It opens when it senses a person.”

Draco frowned. He was slightly disappointed it wasn’t magic at all. Muggles were _so_ weird.

He then followed Hermione and Rose towards a corner where the weird baskets with wheels were kept. Hermione pulled one out and gave it a slight push and pull. Satisfied, she maneuvered it to the entrance of the busy grocery.

“Let me,” he said. It was more of a demanded, really, and Hermione raised an eyebrow. She wordlessly gave the trolley to him and followed Hermione and Rose as they meandered through different aisles.

The first thing they got was a box of eggs, but Hermione already took that chance to buy more things for their home. Draco was silent throughout the whole ordeal, his eyes a little wide as he looked at all the muggle things inside the grocery store. He hadn’t been to a wizarding one too, to be honest. His trusted house elves already did this job for him.

His eyes landed on a small family nearby and frowned. Their child was sitting inside the trolley and looked like he was having the time of his life.

“Rose,” he called. Both woman and child looked at him questioningly. Draco pointed inside the trolley and said, “Why don’t you hop in?”

Rose’s eyes lit up but she questioningly looked up at her mother. “Mama doesn’t really like it when I ride the trolley,” she explained with a small pout. “She said I take up too much space.”

Hermione reverently nodded her head, prompting Draco to roll his eyes. “Nonsense,” he said, bending down and lifting Rose by her armpits. The child softly giggled until Draco deposited her inside the trolley in a comfortable position. Hermione gave him a disproving frown, which he pointedly ignored. Thankfully, Hermione merely sighed in defeat and started grabbing more products hither thither.

“I thought we’re just getting eggs?” Draco said with an amused smile as more and more merchandises filled their trolley.

“This week will be very busy and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to start stocking,” she explained.

Draco made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat. Looking around, he noticed that a lot of small families were in the grocery today. His eyes widened when he realized _they_ looked like a small family, too. He was unable to stifle a stupid grin from growing on his face and Hermione had been giving him weird looks ever since.

He then spied a rack filled with different kinds of cookies while Hermione was busy gazing through the different kinds of cheese. Smirking, he grabbed a few and promptly placed them inside the cart.

“Put those back,” Hermione protested with a glare once she finally chose the perfect cheese. “I’ve been fueling Rose with too much sugar for the past few days.”

“Who said those are for Rose?”

Hermione glowered, clearly not believing him, then grabbed a few boxes of cookies and brought them back in the shelf.

“Hey, those are mine!” he snarled.

The brunette sighed and gestured at the three boxes left inside the cart. “Those will suffice,” she pointed out. Then, she proceeded to turn around and lead them to the checkout area.

Draco sneakily grabbed another box and sent a conspiratorial wink towards the giggling redhead.

After everything was paid, Draco helped Hermione carry the paper bags and loaded them in the trunk.

* * *

 _‘I See the Light’_ was blaring from the radio and Hermione found herself humming under her breath. Belatedly, she realized that Rose wasn’t singing along. Her daughter _always_ sang along to all her favorite Disney tunes and this one had been her particular favorite ever since the movie showed up.

Glancing at the rearview mirror, Hermione smiled upon seeing her daughter sleeping soundly at the back, her head resting snuggly against the car door. Although the ride back home was only a twenty-minute drive, Rose might have been too excited in their Muggle grocery escapade a while ago and had tired herself.

Hermione reached for one of the small knobs in her radio to bring down the volume.

She once again glanced at the rearview mirror, this time at Draco, and was pleasantly surprised that he too was fast asleep. He made Rose’s legs as his pillow and he looked a little uncomfortable in his sleep. Hermione figured Henrik McLaggen had exhausted his new employee once more. She sadly smiled, thinking that Draco deserved a goodnight’s sleep tonight and mentally promised to cook dinner as fast as she could just so he could finally go home and rest.

They finally reached home and Hermione switched off the engine. She climbed down the car seat and jogged towards the back, opening the car door at Draco’s side. Both the wizard and the child were still fast asleep and Hermione couldn’t help but smile warmly at the sight.

Draco’s forehead was slightly scrunched up in discomfort and Hermione was unable to stop herself from reaching forward with the intent of smoothing the lines. It was too late to retrieve it back when Draco’s big, warm hand suddenly held her small one, prompting a surprised squeak from Hermione’s.

“What are you doing?” the blond asked, cracking one, sleepy eye open.

She could feel her face heating in embarrassment upon being caught. “Err… we’re home,” she hastily replied.

Draco blearily opened both of his eyes and released a wide yawn. He eased himself into a sitting position and lightly smiled upon seeing that Rose was also fast asleep. “Well, someone’s exhausted,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied, knowing full well that she was not pertaining to Rose.

Draco caught her worried gaze and frowned. “What?”

“Is McLaggen still tiring you like a bloody house-elf?”

He rubbed his itchy eye and shrugged. “He’s out for my blood,” he cajoled. “I think something will be _terribly_ wrong if he’s suddenly nice to me and all.” Hermione frowned, prompting him to scowl. “Don’t even start, Granger. You and I both know that this should be expected.”

Still, she was unable to stop herself from feeling worried for him. Gone was her arrogant Slytherin classmate, practically oozing self-confidence and strutting around the corridors as if he owned the whole freaking world. The War had severely changed them, _especially_ Draco, and it still made her heart ache that he already resigned himself in thinking that he didn’t deserve to be treated better despite his change of allegiances.

“Ugh, Granger, stop looking at me like that,” he snarled, his scowl darkening. He turned away from her and gathered the slumbering girl in his arms. “I’m going to take Rose instead. I’m sure she weighs heavier than the paper bags.”

He strode into Hermione’s flat without her permission, leaving Hermione to look at his back sadly instead. Draco would be incessantly annoyed by her worry; she wouldn’t even be surprised if he snapped one of these days and tell her to quit feeling sorry for him like how she felt sorry for her precious house-elves.

Sighing, Hermione gathered the groceries into her arms and strode inside her flat, fervently wishing that by some miracle, the world would be kinder to Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Today was his father’s death anniversary.

Theo had gone to the company in a daze, working on autopilot just to get through the day. The whole company knew how special this day was to him and had thankfully been extra mindful of their distracted boss. He strangely had no meetings today; he clearly remembered wanting to keep himself busy to stop himself from wallowing in self-pity, alone, in his office. When he inquired his secretary, she merely smiled and denied that he had set any meetings at all. Of course he did not believe her, but he was too tired to argue.

He called an early night, murmuring goodbyes to his employees, and was surprised to see that he stumbled into his manor immediately. During the past years, he always found himself in some unknown Muggle bar, drinking himself into stupor and going home with some blonde he wouldn’t bother contacting in the future.

Blinking, he remembered it was a Wednesday today, and it meant Luna Lovegood would be in his library.

Theo silently meandered through his corridors before finally arriving in the vast library of the Nott Manor. He pushed the door open and it took him five steps to notice that Luna wasn’t painting at all.

“Hello, Theo,” she greeted, before daintily lifting a teacup against her lips. There were no paint streaks on her face; even her clothes were spared. Today, she wore a nice, blue blouse and a flowy black skirt – definitely not her work clothes. He glanced at her feet and wasn’t surprised to see that she had her shoes on.

“You’re not working today?” he heard himself ask.

Luna smiled and slowly stood up from the chair she was sitting on. “I’m tired of painting library walls,” she reasoned out. Then, she gathered her coat and strode closer to the silent wizard. “I’d like to paint something pretty today.”

He watched her in confusion as Luna completely strode out from his library. A frown grew on his face when she looked back at him, a questioning look on her face. “Don’t you want to come with me, Theo?” she asked.

“To where?”  

The witch sighed. “Come,” she beckoned. “I discovered a wonderful place last week.”

“And you want me to come?”

She gave him a strange look, and Theo had no choice but to sigh and trail behind her.

He didn’t realize where they were going until they stumbled out of the Leaky Cauldron. Charing Cross Road was marvelously alive at this time of the night, glittering lights decorating the whole street with blaring cars and loud chattering from the people. Theo had to adjust from the sudden onslaught to his senses and before he could protest, Luna had grabbed onto his elbow and steered him somewhere only she knew.

Theo glanced at the passing Muggle shops and felt a little comforted at their obliviousness of his situation. It made him bloody annoyed how everybody walked on eggshells around him today; but then again, remembering how he acted for the past years during his father’s death anniversary, he couldn’t really blame them. Still, how they treated him today made him painfully aware of what this day pertained for him.

Perhaps, it was a good thing that Luna Lovegood was dragging him through Muggle London. Theo already felt a little better, welcoming the ignorance of the muggles around him with open arms. When he peered at the serene face of Luna, he wondered if she knew it was Thoros Nott’s death anniversary today. Luna’s face didn’t betray her emotions and before he could demand what she knew, she pulled him inside a shop.

The first thing that he noticed was the unbearable smell of paint. Theo scrunched up his nose and looked around, noticing several customers sipping on beverages while they happily painted on some canvases. He suspiciously looked at the customer closest to the door and Theo thought his painting of the sea looked actually impressive.

“Where are we?” he demanded. Luna ignored his question and ushered him towards an empty table near the large window at the back. Through the window, he could clearly see the bustling life of Muggle London.

“I stumbled upon this place during one of my breaks,” Luna explained. “This is a painting café.” She gestured around with a small smile on her face. “Isn’t this lovely? We can paint whatever we wanted while drinking our favorite beverages. You just have to mindful not to mix your paint with your drinks, though.”

Theo gave her a weird look, thinking this place would be disastrous for an absentminded girl like Luna. Seeing that no one was choking from any potentially hazardous paint ( _yet_ ), the wizard thought he should give this place a chance.

A waiter then sidled up on their table and gave them menus. Theo immediately ordered black coffee without even glancing at the menu while Luna took her sweet time and finally ordered some chamomile tea.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked as soon as the waiter left.

“I told you. I wanted to paint something pretty today.”

“Well, I _don’t_ ,” he snapped back in mild irritation. He spied an interesting bar across from this stupid painting café and Theo was tempted to bolt out of here and drown his misery with alcohol. He could ditch any one night stands if he could; strangely, no one had appealed to him anymore. Besides, _well_ …

He glared at Luna at the corner of his eyes, silently blaming her how his yearly tradition was single-handedly ruined by her.

The waiter came by once more, this time balancing their drinks on both of his hands. Tucked underneath his armpits were blank canvases and he each gave one to Luna and Theo. “You can pull out the drawers on your table for some paint and paintbrushes,” he instructed. “If you need anything else, you can just call for me.”

Luna gave him a pretty smile and thanked him. The waiter then excused himself.

“I don’t paint,” Theo said with a frown as Luna started pulling out her painting supplies from her drawer.

“Everybody can paint, Theo,” she pointed out. “Even you.”

Theo grumbled under his breath and pulled out the drawer. There was an array of paint tubes and bottles, different shapes of brushes, and other art knickknacks he did not recognize. He glanced towards Luna, who was now starting to paint on her canvas. He tried to peek at her work but Luna merely held it closer to herself with an amused smile on her face.

Scowling, Theo uncovered the paint on his table and grabbed the nearest paintbrush and started to work on his canvas.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he couldn’t paint. He was never the creative one; even Draco’s doodles during their Hogwarts years were artfully crafted. He could still remember his brilliant doodle of Harry Potter fainting in third year due to the dementors and couldn’t help but to crack a small smile.

With this in mind, he started to work on his art. He would mindlessly dip his paint in some random color and would concentrate with all his might to put his imagination on the canvas. There would be some random, unwanted smudges here and there. Some of the lines would be too thick or too thin for his own liking. He actually had a really difficult time on choosing the right color for the hair, but after some quick retouches, he was finally satisfied with his work.

Theo was about to declare that he was done with his painting but once he glanced at the silent blonde, he opted to bite down his words. Luna was the picture of perfect concentration. An unbidden smile bloomed on his face upon noticing the wayward paint streaks on her cheek, which she seemed not to mind.

He contented himself in watching her for a few more minutes, unwilling to disturb the nice picture she painted. Theo had set his canvas aside, drank from his coffee a few times, but his eyes never left her form. He had to quickly set her tea aside when she almost dipped her paintbrush into it one too many times. Luna would also occasionally blow some of her fringes away in frustration, and then finally tucked the offending hair behind her ear. At the same time, she was able to successfully stain her cheek with a brilliant shade of yellow.

Theo felt his heart lurching to his throat, wondering what the hell happened during the past weeks to find himself maddeningly mesmerized by the witch sitting across from him.

“You’re done?” Luna finally asked, breaking away from her canvas to look up at him.

“What?” he distractedly asked. When she lifted a questioning eyebrow, he cleared his throat and added, “Oh, yes. Yes, I’m done.”

Wordlessly then, he gestured at his work. Luna’s eyes landed on his canvas and he observed her face to see some reaction from her. She silently assessed his painting, and Theo was growing more and more insecure that a talented painter like her was scrutinizing his rubbish painting.

“It’s actually… pretty good.”

He scowled. “It’s atrocious, isn’t it?” he snapped. His scowl just deepened when an amused smile flitted on her face.

“It’s _art_ ,” she corrected, her smile now stretching into a full blown grin. Her eyes glinted under the café lights, once again looking at his disastrous painting. “It’s a nice painting of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. You should be proud.”

He most definitely did not feel _proud_. “Crumble-Horned Snorkacks?” he thundered, grasping his canvas and angrily waving it around. “This is _Draco_ ” – he pointed at a sad excuse of a human with bright, blond hair – “and this is _Rose_.” He then pointed at a much smaller sad excuse of a human with shocking red, curly hair. “Their faces might not be asymmetric and… and… I may have forgone the fingers and feet because I don’t really know how to paint them. But it’s them! I’m quite proud of their _hairs_.”

Luna coughed behind her hand, prompting his eyes to widen in affront and disbelief. “Are you laughing at me?” he thundered.

The blonde carefully drew her face into a blank, save from polite contrition, and said, “I’m sorry, Theo. That was rude of me to laugh at your… err… _art_.” Her lips twitched and Theo’s scowl darkened. Unable to help it anymore, a giggle flew out from Luna’s mouth until she was reduced into a lovely mess of paint streaks and delightful laughs. A few of the customers sent them curious looks, which didn’t help Theo’s growing embarrassment.

His cheeks burned and he threw the canvas on the table face down. “I told you I don’t paint,” he huffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest to stop him from drawing out his wand and blasting his painting into smithereens.

“I-I’m sorry,” Luna hiccupped, already mellowing down. “That was definitely rude of me.”

“Yes, _definitely_ ,” he snarled.

Her laughter had died but her eyes still smiled. “It was lovely. Honest,” she said, placing a hand against her heart. “I’ve seen Neville try to draw his beloved plants for his new Herbology book, but I politely told him he should stick with taking pictures instead.” Her mouth stretched into a grin once more. “Yours look marginally better.”

He still continued to scowl, unsure whether he should feel better with the anecdote. “Well then, let’s see what you painted,” he snapped, grabbing onto her canvas before she could hide it from him. Luna expelled a small sound of protest, but it was too late when his eyes landed on her painting.

Theo’s eyes widened.

It was a nice painting of _him_ , deep concentration on his face as his painted self was busy painting on his canvas. A disbelieving smile grew on his face when Luna was even able to successfully paint a complete set of his fingers. The smile left his face though, when he looked at his eyes. His usually bright brown eyes were dull and darker.

“I… I look like that?” he asked, emotions clogging up his throat.

“You have sad eyes today, Theo.”

He was reminded once more of what today was and he didn’t know what to feel when Luna even noticed it. Theo thought she was lost in her own little world, too busy finishing her painting. But then, she was actually observing _him_ and perfectly captured the emotions he had tried to bottle inside by just painting his eyes.

“What are those?” he whispered, pointing at the weird creatures flying against his ears.

Luna smiled. “Wrackspurts,” she said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “You have abundant wrackspurts buzzing around.”

“They’re not real,” he lamely interjected.

Her smile turned sad. “Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps not.” Then, she added, “I know why you’re sad today, Theo. Stimpy told me when I arrived in your library.”

Theo silently cursed his meddling, personal house elf and resolutely looked away from Luna.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He closed his eyes for a while, breathed deeply through his nose to calm himself down. Once he felt marginally better, he looked back at Luna. He was dumbfounded at how open and worried her eyes were. “I… I think I’d like to go home now.”

Luna wordlessly nodded her head and called for the waiter. She fished out her purse and Theo absentmindedly pawed for his wallet, but Luna placed a hand on his arm.

“It’s my treat,” she said.

Before he could protest that he did not let women pay for his food, Luna had already given a wad of Muggle money to the waiter.

“I’ll walk you home,” she proclaimed.

“Don’t be stupid,” Theo said with a scowl, his cheeks tinging with red at her suggestion. “I’m not some bloody damsel, Lovegood.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot to include that I left some of my supplies in your library.”

His scowl darkened and turned his back from her, determined to finally reach home and drink himself into oblivion.

* * *

Luna brought him to a quiet park, insisting it was a waste if they ventured back to the Nott Manor without basking under the nice night first. Theo was too tired to protest, his heart too heavy with exhausting emotions.

She opted to walk beside him, absentmindedly humming under her breath as she gazed throughout the park. Theo noticed that there were a few people scattered about, lost in their own worlds to notice him and Luna. He spied a small family seated on a bench nearby, all smiles as they exchanged stories about their day, and Theo’s heart ached at the sight.

“Did you love him?”

He stiffened at her voice, eyes widening a bit as his gaze fell back on her. Luna was determinedly looking straight ahead, most likely avoiding his eyes. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he looked straight ahead too, unsure of what to answer.

“I…maybe.” He blinked. “Once. I… yes, yes. I did.”

Theo loved his father very much. He grew up while putting his father at a pedestal, idolizing everything he was and did and his eleven-year-old self vowed whole-heartedly that he would be like his father when he grew up. His mother had died when he was very young, and Theo did not exactly remember her, so Thoros was his only family. And for his first years in Hogwarts, that promise continued, but what he did not foresee was how Voldemort would tear his family apart.

Thoros was blinded by Voldemort’s promise of power, which Theo did not like one bit. He had questioned Voldemort’s ideals to his father once, during fifth year, and up to this day, his chest hurts from the Cruciatus Curse Thoros had inflicted his way. Ever since then, their relationship had been severely ruined and Theo promised instead that he would _never_ be like his father, no matter what happened.

“It must have been hard,” Luna said her voice cutting through his painful reminiscing. “Your childhood, that is.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he snapped before he could stop himself. He hated how she looked at him and he scowled. “And I don’t fucking need your pity, Lovegood.”

She sadly smiled and boldly placed a gentle hand on his arm. Her hand was warm, and it spread throughout his body and reached his heart. And suddenly, he wanted to shout, to curse his father and Voldemort… to ridicule his eleven-year-old self for being too stupid for loving his blasted father too much.

“It isn’t pity,” she softly replied, her eyes now shining too brightly under the starry sky. “I can empathize.”

Theo took a deep breath and sighed, his anger completely leaving him. Replaced was utter exhaustion, not wanting to talk about his father anymore. “I want to go home,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, grabbing hold of his elbow. “Okay, I’ll take you home.”

He blindly followed her until they finally stumbled back in Charing Cross Road and into the Leaky Cauldron. He didn’t protest when Luna side-along apparated them back into the vast lawn of the Nott Manor without his permission.

Stimpy greeted them with fearful eyes, and Theo did not have the heart to berate him today.

Theo then followed Luna until she was in the library, and watched her as she gathered her things.

“Did you love him?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “Your… your father?”

Luna stiffened, her wide eyes connecting with his, before a watery smile grew on her face. “Yes,” she said. “With all of my heart.”

His heart throbbed at the sight of her tears and he shot forward. Luna’s eyes widened and he faltered back, stopping when he was merely a few inches away from her. “Is he the reason why you ran away to the Muggle world?” he asked.

Luna took a shaky breath as a tear fell down from her eye. It mingled with the yellow paint on her cheek; now, a yellow tear slipped down onto her chin and disappeared on her blue blouse. More yellow tears ran down from her cheeks and Theo finally gave in and reached forward, gently brushing them away.

“Yes,” she replied. She leaned slightly towards his touch and sadly smiled. “I knew you understand how stifling the Wizarding World. Everywhere I look, it… it reminds me of my father and I knew I should just leave.” She painfully closed her eyes and sighed. “It’s because of me…”

She let her words dangle, but Theo already knew what she meant. “I don’t think your father blames you,” he insisted.

“I don’t think he does too,” she replied. “But I do. I blame myself.”

She took a deep breath and stepped closer to Theo. She was nearer now; he could feel her warm breath washing through his cheek and his heart throbbed once more. “Did you ever think about leaving the Wizarding World, Theo?” she asked.

“I did,” he confessed. “Too many times to count. Every time I venture into the Muggle world, I was always tempted to run away and leave everything behind.”

“Then why don’t you?”

He wryly smiled down at her. “Because I can’t,” he started. “Every time I think about leaving my stepmother to burden the House of Nott by herself, I hesitate. She may not be the best stepmother in the whole world, but she cared about me in her own way. And Draco… I don’t understand why the whole _fucking_ world can’t just understand that what he needed the most is a friend. I am one to him, and that’s enough reason for me to get my ass back into the Wizarding World.”

“That’s too bad,” Luna murmured. “I don’t have a stepmother or a Draco to lure me back.”

“But don’t you ever think of coming back?” he asked, bordering pleading.

“Perhaps,” she confessed. “Perhaps not.” She reached out to gently brush his fringes away. “But for now, all I can do is to run away.”

* * *

“Hey.”

Theo lifted his head and shot a weak smile at his best friend. Luna had already left and went back home, but he opted to stay in the library to mull over their conversation a while ago. He desperately wanted to go to sleep, but he knew that Draco would arrive anyway and waited for him.

“You okay, mate?” Draco asked, offering him a glass of expensive whiskey.

“It’s been a rough day,” Theo said with a tired sigh. He tipped his head back and finished the alcohol in one gulp. He welcomed the burning sensation in his throat, momentarily wishing that the burn would grow and grow until it consumed him whole.

“I bet,” the blond murmured, sitting across from him.

Draco silently stayed with him. One thing he appreciated about his best mate was that Draco did not offer any ridiculous words of sympathy just to make him feel better. His mere presence was enough; he knew he cared greatly for him in his own, bizarre way.

He stood by his words a while ago, that he couldn’t completely leave the Wizarding World no matter how tempted he was. People like Draco needed him here, and Theo just fervently wished that Luna would realize that she was needed here too.


	18. The Escape

“Well, I’m quite surprised you’ve finally painted everything in just a span of a month.”

Luna whipped her head around and smiled, oblivious of the streaks of paint on her chin, cheeks, and even her forehead. Theo looked at her in amusement, wondering how all the paint managed to find themselves on her face.

“Your house-elves were wonderfully helpful,” she replied. “I’m quite sure I won’t be able to finish decorating without their help.”

Theo lightly frowned, wondering if graciously offering his house-elves to help her was a good choice after all. Perhaps, if Luna worked alone, she would have stayed in the Nott Library for a few more months. Theo suddenly had a crazy idea of driving another house-elf insane to wreak havoc in the Nott Library once more and extend Luna’s stay.

 _‘Get a grip,’_ he thought with a sigh, unceremoniously plopping on one of the spared desks in the library.

“Is something the matter?” Luna asked, treacle tart at hand, as she this time chose to sit on the desk across from his. “You are in an awful mood.”

“Nothing that should concern you, really,” he said almost apologetically, not wanting to offend her for not sharing his day. It was, after all, a particularly tortuous day and if Luna wouldn’t be here today, he might as well have plopped inside his bedroom and slept the stress away.

Luna serenely smiled and finished her treacle tart in silence. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “My father used to tell me that a problem shared is a problem halved.”

His eyes slightly widened, surprised to hear her casually refer to her deceased father. Remembering their conversation during his father’s death anniversary, Theo had deduced speaking about Xenophilius Lovegood was still a particularly sensitive topic for her.

Luna’s eyes met his and smiled, seemingly understanding the thoughts that now ran through his head.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” he sputtered out, shifting his gaze away from her piercing, blue eyes. “Just some Nott business that is too complicated to share.”

She thoughtfully hummed and pattered closer to the tray of treacle tarts. He noticed that she was barefoot once more and absentmindedly directed a warming charm to her feet. He missed the small smile Luna gave him as he was too distracted with his thoughts.

“The library isn’t finished yet.”

He furrowed his brow, gazing at the dark ceiling. “It isn’t?” he inquired.

Luna shook her head, some tendrils of her hair whipping against her face. “I told you I still have some things to add,” she explained.

“What are you planning to do?” he asked in suspicion.

She gave that dreamy smile again and settled on her desk once more. “Your library is too lovely to be merely painted black,” Luna replied. “We don’t want a blibbering humdinger to get lost in your library now, do we?”

Theo shook his head and merely smiled, not wanting to indulge her in one of her obviously make-believe creatures.

“Perhaps a clue on your intriguing plan?”

“Perhaps,” Luna repeated, turning her back from him as she picked up her paintbrush once more, “you should spend more of your free times outside than accompany me here in this library, Theo.”

She then craned her neck, a sparkle in her eyes, and Theo took a sharp intake of breath.

“It is,” she continued, “a lovely night, after all.”

* * *

Draco almost had a heart attack when an overeager Rose Weasley greeted him when he walked inside his office. The said six-year-old was seated on his desk, her feet dangling over the edge.

“Hello, Draco!” she chirped as she wildly waved her hand in greeting.

Her voice snapped him off from his momentary shock and scowled. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he demanded, promptly closing the door behind his back and dropping the files on his desk. Rose merely smiled, lifted her arms and wriggled her fingers, waiting until Draco picked her up.

“Mama fetched me from daycare today,” she exclaimed, clingingly tightly around Draco’s neck. “But she said she needed to do things and left me to Uncle Harry!”

“Let me guess,” he said with an eye roll, “Potter was supposed to look after you.”

“Yep!”

Draco sighed and mentally took note of cursing Potter for letting a child run loose in the ministry. “How did you even find me here?” he asked.

“Reggie said I will find you here,” she said, giggling behind her hand. “Reggie looks cute.”

He made a face, thinking that the twitchy fresh Hogwarts graduate was nowhere near cute.

“Wait ‘til Granger hears about how Potter lost you,” he then thought aloud, a small smirk growing on his face.

As if on cue, Harry Potter burst through his doors without even bothering to knock. Potter breathed in a huge sigh of relief and warily looked at Rose.

“I knew you’d be here.” He shook his head, lips thinning in displeasure. “I told you to stay put, Rosie.”

“Sorry, Uncle Harry,” she said with a pout. “I just wanted to see Draco already.”

Draco snorted when Potter practically melted at the puppy dog eyes of his best friend’s daughter. The-Boy-Who-Lived then directed his eyes at the blond and scowled. “You’re going to tell Hermione, aren’t you?” he accused.

“Yep,” he replied, mimicking Rose a while ago.

Potter released a huge sigh and shook his head. “Figured as much,” he muttered. “Anyway, are you busy, Malfoy? Wanna grab some lunch?”

Draco didn’t bother hiding his grimace.

“Blimey, Malfoy, of course _Hermione_ will be coming,” his former schoolmate replied, looking particularly pale at the thought of possibly eating lunch with Malfoy alone. “She wanted me to grab you for lunch.”

It was particularly suspicious and Draco narrowed his eyes. “Why?” he demanded.

Potter sighed, fixated him with a serious stare, and whispered, “Lestrange finally cracked. We need your help.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. His eyebrows flew until they disappeared behind his fringes. “I thought it was _classified_ ,” he sneered, still quite annoyed the pair hadn’t exactly given him details with his uncle’s case.

“Ugh, why are you being so difficult?” Potter snapped. “Just bloody come and we’ll explain it to you over lunch.”

Draco still looked suspicious, but finally firmly nodded his head and strode out of his office.

* * *

As predicted, Hermione was displeased that Harry was careless enough to lose her daughter in the Ministry, but Draco was disappointed that The-Boy-Who-Lived merely received a playful slap on his arm. He was actually expecting Potter would get a lecture, but then, he noted Hermione’s tensed demeanor and knew that Lestrange’s case had gotten her distracted. Once they arrived, she secretly pulled out her wand and whispered a soft _‘Muffliato’_.

“Why are you suddenly including me in this case?” he demanded once more, suspiciously eyeing the Muggle Japanese restaurant Potter dragged him into. Rose was blissfully oblivious of the tension among the three of them and had been distractedly playing with a flower origami.

Harry pulled out a thick folder, presumably Lestrange’s case, and unceremoniously slammed it on the table. Hermione tutted but her best friend was already sifting through the files until he pulled out a sheet of paper.

“Since when do you color code your files?” Draco asked, highly amused.

“Oh, this wasn’t my work. It was Hermione’s.”

He rolled his eyes, clearly not surprised. “Swot,” he muttered under his breath, almost _too_ fondly, but Hermione had heard him, since she rolled her eyes in retaliation.

Harry then gave him the piece of paper. Quickly scanning, he noticed that there were listed names… _Death Eater_ names.

“These are the list of rogue Death Eaters,” Harry said. “Lestrange also confessed that they were really planning on conducting a rebellion against the Ministry.”

Draco sneered, gesturing at the list of names. “With that amount of people, they are doomed to fail,” he pointed out.

“Of course we know that,” Hermione said. He glanced over at her and noticed the deep worry lines on her forehead. “But they’re driven by their hatred and anger, Draco. Added with their impressive knowledge of the Dark Arts, they are still quite dangerous to the Wizarding World.”

“Which is why we need your help,” Harry added. “Give us the list of safe houses… hideouts… anything that may house these bastards.”

“Harry,” Hermione hissed, glancing at her daughter.

Her best friend gave her an apologetic look before glancing back at Draco. “What do you think, Malfoy?” he asked.

Draco lifted a pale eyebrow and leaned slightly forward. “It depends,” he said with a smirk, noting how Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise and Potter looked positively livid. “Unless you tell me how you made my fucking uncle crack.”

Hermione groaned, consequently covering both of Rose’s ears, whilst Harry tried to suppress a smirk.

“We managed to brew an antidote to Moldy Voldy’s anti-Veritaserum potion,” Harry explained. “ _Well,_ it was mostly Hermione and her brilliance. You should have seen Lestrange’s face when he realized he wasn’t immune to the Veritaserum anymore.”

The witch blushed with Harry’s compliment. “I had some help from other excellent Potioneers, Harry,” she reminded him, but Harry merely chuckled and brushed off her comment.

“So, what do you think, Malfoy?” Harry then continued.

Draco shrugged. “I’m fine with it,” he started, “but I’m not sure McLaggen will approve that I’m suddenly disappearing to work on a case.”

“That can be arranged,” the auror replied. “Besides, you don’t even like him, Malfoy, so what’s the harm of working with the Aurors than the DIMC, eh? Hermione even told me you’d rather be a Curse Breaker!”

Draco scowled at Hermione, who sheepishly stared back at him. “I still think you should give it a try,” the brunette explained in her defense. “I think your talents are wasted in the DIMC. Why don’t you try applying as a Curse Breaker instead?”

“You know it won’t be easy, Granger,” he snarled. “Need I remind you I already had a hard time applying to the DIMC?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “McLaggen’s not exactly a wonderful boss, Malfoy,” she replied. “You should still try applying in the DMLE. Our Department Head is quite frankly _better_ than McLaggen.”

Malfoy sighed and leaned back on his chair. “Applying is hard,” he pointed out. “Besides, I need positive recommendations. I’m _positively_ sure there isn’t anyone who would give me glowing recommendations for that position.”

“Well, you’ve got me. And _Harry_ ,” she said, wildly gesturing between herself and The-Boy-Who-Lived.

“Me?” Potter asked, knitting his eyebrows in confusion.

“Yes, you, Potter,” Hermione said with slight annoyance. Harry’s eyes widened at her address, then shot a glare at Draco as if it was his fault his best friend was starting to call him by his last name. Draco merely smirked back at him. “Harry and I are both senior Aurors and we can give you these so-called glowing recommendations that you need. Besides, we’re War Heroes. I’m sure our recommendations will be your golden ticket.”

Draco frowned. “I haven’t even lasted a month in the DIMC, Granger,” he said. “I know it is futile, but I at least want to see my proposal come into fruition somehow.”

“Just think about it,” Hermione urged. “I’m sure you’d rather not sit behind a desk, endless of paperwork at hand, when you know you can be out there, having some action…” She grinned prettily at him, prompting him to roll his eyes. She knew he _h_ ated paperwork and she was using that to lure him into Curse Breaking.

 _‘Bloody witch,’_ he thought with a sigh.

Potter then cleared his throat, reminding them that he was still present. “We’ll send you a memo for the next meeting,” he said, eyeing the two with an indescribable look on his face. “Also, I think we should order now because Rosie looks… _hungry_.”

Their eyes landed on the strangely silent tot, who was now sourly munching on the origami.

“Rosie, no!” Hermione gasped, pulling the inedible paper out of her daughter’s mouth.

“Mama,” she whined. “I’m hungry.”

Draco smirked and shook his head.

Some things never changed.

* * *

The blond sighed for the umpteenth time, annoyed and guilty that he was distracted with his work. Hermione’s words kept on ringing in his mind, tempting him to actually apply to the Office for the Removal of Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes. It didn’t help that it was under the Department of Magical Law and Enforcement; it meant he might perhaps be seeing Hermione more often.

Glancing at the documents on his desk, he made a face and thought _nothing_ had really changed when he was handling the Malfoy business. Endless paperwork still greeted him every day, contacting foreign ambassadors, arranging international travels… he scowled.

He applied to this department, thinking he’d be sent off to different countries for any ministry business, but all he had been doing ever since he started was revise papers and sign legal documents.

It was too mind-numbing, more so than Rose’s favorite cartoons, and Draco now was seriously considering if applying to the DIMC was what he really wanted.

“Malfoy.”

He blinked in surprise and looked at the newcomer. McLaggen was sporting a displeased frown on his face.

“I got a memo from the DMLE,” he barked. “They’re asking for your assistance.”

It took all of his willpower not to spring out from his uncomfortable chair in glee. “Right, of course,” Draco replied, schooling his emotions behind his well-crafted mask. Beardy McLaggen narrowed his eyes in suspicion but the Malfoy heir quickly gathered his things and strode out of his office.

He jogged towards the lift, afraid that McLaggen would change his mind and drag him back into his office. Draco released a soft sigh when the lift doors finally closed and descended.

When the lift attendant announced that they were on the second floor, the blond prepared himself to barrel through the DMLE. What he didn’t expect, however, was how orderly and neat the whole department floor was. Grimacing, he realized that the DIMC really needed some renovations. He even rolled his eyes when he spied the comfortable, swiveling chairs that the DIMC severely lacked.

“Malfoy.”

His eyes sought the owner of the voice and landed on Harry Potter. He tilted his head and disappeared into a room without another word.

Draco resolutely walked towards the room, ignoring the blatant stares some of the employees were giving him. As he finally arrived inside the room, he noted that there was already a small group inside. His eyes caught Hermione’s, who smiled at him lightly. Draco then surveyed the occupants of the room and was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face amongst the group.

“Thomas Davies,” he said.

The burly man grinned and strode forward. “Draco Malfoy,” he said, extending a hand. “We meet again.”

“You two know each other?” Hermione inquired.

Draco nodded while Thomas said, “We met at the fifth floor of St. Mungo’s during Martha’s labor. Kept me company, that’s what he did.”

“I didn’t know you’re an Auror,” Draco pointed out. He remembered his last encounter with Davies and smiled. It was good to know that people like him worked in the ministry.

Behind him, Potter snorted. “More like the Department Head of the DMLE,” he corrected.

The blond’s eyes widened in surprise. “I-I didn’t know,” he sputtered out.

Davies gave him a wink. “Well, you didn’t ask.” Behind him, he could see Hermione giving him a knowing look, and Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Anyway,” Davies called, “since everybody is here, we should already start.”

* * *

The meeting had ended way past work hours and Draco was exhausted. Hermione, who was sitting beside him, released a huge yawn she didn’t bother hiding, before slowly standing up from her seat.

“That was… a lot to take in,” Draco commented, gathering his belongings, before standing up too.

“Welcome to the world of aurors,” Hermione said with a grin.

They had extensively talked about tactics on how to take down the rogue Death Eaters. Draco graciously offered his insights about their possible hideouts, even offering some counterattacks against booby traps the Death Eaters had undoubtedly placed for protection and alarm. He didn’t understand why Hermione and Harry were both looking at him with knowing looks in their eyes.

“Hermione, you coming?” Harry called. “There’s a team dinner.”

The brunette shook her head. “Sorry, Harry,” she said, complete with an apologetic smile. “I still have to get Rose from the daycare.”

Harry nodded, a smile of understanding on his face, before looking at Draco. The-Boy-Who-Lived struggled for a bit, his mouth opening and closing with no words escaping. Draco, realizing what he was trying to do, finally glared and said, “Save it, Potter. I’m not interested to go.”

“Good,” Potter said with a sigh of relief.

“Harry!”

He lightly blushed and sheepishly smiled. “What I mean to say is… err… um… yes, goodbye.” He then ran out of the meeting room without any glance back.

Hermione shook her head at her best friend’s antics, then looked at Draco once more. “Do you have some plans tonight?” she inquired.

“None.”

“Good,” she said with a smile. “Why don’t you come over for dinner?”

Draco, brows furrowing, released a soft sigh. “Granger,” he called.

Hermione, who was about to walk out of the room, turned around and looked at him questioningly.

“Why are you doing this?” he blurted out.

Her expression turned into confusion. “What do you mean?” she inquired.

“This,” Draco said, gesturing between him and Hermione. “Inviting me over for _dinner_. You… you really shouldn’t bother.”

Hermione lifted an eyebrow, slightly amused. “And why shouldn’t I?” she asked.

Draco sighed, murmured something under his breath, and turned away from Hermione. The brunette, sensing his discomfort, rolled her eyes and strolled closer to him.

“I _told_ you,” she said. “I treat you as a friend. Of course, you should get used to being invited over for dinner.”

“You don’t invite Potter often,” he grumbled under his breath, but Hermione perfectly heard him.

“You want me to invite Harry, too?” she asked, a bemused smile on her face, prompting Draco to sigh.

“Ugh, never mind,” he answered, making a face at the idea of sharing dinner with Potter once more. Granger and her daughter were already enough for him to handle. Draco didn’t like the idea of joining another lion for dinner.

He lightly jumped in surprise when Hermione suddenly touched his arm. “Don’t overthink about it too much,” she cajoled. And here he thought she was the one that overthought between the two of them. “Blimey, it’s just _dinner_ , Draco. I’m sure you’ll manage to survive another one with my daughter and me.”

Draco gave her a withering glare, quite aware that his resolve had already broken down. “I still don’t understand why you’re wasting your time asking me to do things when you don’t even give me a choice to say no,” he said, followed by a long sigh. The witch grinned, knowing that the subject had already been resolved.

“Come on, we still need to fetch Rose from the Ministry daycare.”

* * *

“Draco!”

Rose, at the middle of a pretend tea party, shot up from her seat and dashed towards the blond. Draco’s arms were already open as the redhead jumped into him. Draco, with a low chuckle, easily caught her and settled her comfortably in his arms.

“Hello, Rosie, your mother is also here,” Hermione greeted, playfully rolling her eyes upon seeing Draco’s smirk.

“Oh, hello, Mama,” Rose replied, craning her neck forward to give her mother a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “I didn’t know Draco will be coming today.”

“Well…” Hermione started, “I’m sure you will be happier to hear that he will be joining us for dinner again tonight.”

“Yay!” Rose squealed. She tore her eyes away from her mother and looked at Draco instead. “You really coming to dinner tonight, Draco? Really? Really?”

Draco sighed. “Yes, you menace,” he said, unable to stop himself from smiling. “I’ll come over tonight.”

The child squealed once more and squirmed, leaving Draco no choice but to put her on the ground. Then, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the small tea party Rose was participating in. Hermione watched in amusement as her small daughter dragged the towering blond, her stomach making some small somersaults at the look on Draco’s face.

She quietly observed her daughter and Draco as the former introduced him to her new, _human_ friends. Hermione still couldn’t understand where Draco got his infinite patience towards her daughter, despite how he always acted like he was irritated. Comparing him with Ron, she thought her late husband wouldn’t even bother indulging Rose as she introduced him to her friends.

Hermione’s thoughts wandered back to their strange conversation prior to arriving in the daycare.

 _“Why are you doing this?”_ He had asked her, pertaining to inviting him over to dinner countless of times. Hermione felt like it was the natural thing to do, to always invite him over, and his question had caught her off guard and bothered. Sure, she often invited Harry over, but her best friend was always swamped with work and declining her offer. Hermione didn’t bother inviting him anymore unless there were special occasions.

With Draco… _well_. She knew he was incessantly harassed by McLaggen, giving him mountains of paperwork to finish, so he was undoubtedly _busy_. She just didn’t understand why she kept on insisting for him to come over, to spend the night with her and Rose, and perhaps have a few catch-up midnight talks whilst her daughter slept and – “Oh no,” she whispered, eyes widening as a sudden realization hit her.

Heart hammering, a lump forming in her throat, Hermione watched with wide eyes as Draco chuckled over something Rose had said. The sudden expression lit his face handsomely, prompting her to take a deep, shuddering breath.

It was not just how he looked, it was how he interactedwith her daughter, like the _father_ Rose desperately needed. The strange somersaults in her stomach turned into a ravenous swarm of hippogriffs and Hermione didn’t know how much longer she could contain her sudden mini breakdown.

“Oh no,” she gasped once more, placing a shaky hand against her thundering heart. “Oh no.”

“Granger,” Draco suddenly called, looking at her strangely. “Is everything all right?”

Wide-eyed, she looked at the blond, who was now clutching one of Rose’s tiny hands. Her daughter was also peering at her worriedly and she tried her very best to muster a small smile.

“Everything’s all right,” she replied.

Draco still looked skeptical as his lips magnetized into a frown. But then, he merely shrugged and lifted Rose into his arms once more. Hermione balked; had Rose always perfectly fitted in Draco’s arms?

“Come on,” he said, smirking down at the redhead. “The menace is already hungry.”

“Right, of course,” Hermione said, stiffening as Draco finally reached her.

“Are you sure you are okay, Granger?” he asked. His brow furrowed a little, prompting her heart to skip a beat.

“Everything is dandy, Malfoy,” she said, perhaps with a too-crazed smile on her face. “Absolutely dandy.”

The thing was, it wasn’t.

The thing was, an earth-shattering revelation had dawned on her on a stupidly unexpected day.  

And Hermione didn’t know what to do.

* * *

He bolted out of his bed, wand clutched tightly, as he silently illuminated his room. Squinting his eyes, he could make out a shivering silhouette standing in front of his bed.

“Granger?” he rasped out, voice still hoarse from sleep.

“D-Draco,” she hiccupped, collapsing into a messy heap on the floor. “I-it’s Rose.”

Alarmed, the blond jogged over Hermione and crouched down in front of her. He flicked his wand and the candles instantly illuminated, and Draco now perfectly saw the look on her face. Pure terror and utter devastation were etched on her tear-stained face. Heart turning cold, Draco didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“What about Rose?” he demanded, heart hammering wildly inside his chest.

Hermione sobbed loudly and covered her face with her hands.

“Granger, answer me!” he exclaimed.

“S-she’s missing,” she sobbed, her wild, crazed eyes connecting with his wide ones. “I-I got called for w-work – Mrs. Figg – R-Rose was-” She was a blubbering mess and she didn’t make any sense.

Draco, knowing that freaking out wouldn’t help Granger at all, knelt closer to the distressed mother and grasped both of her hands.

“Granger,” he called. “ _Hermione_ , look at me.”

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath and connected her red eyes with his.

“I know something bad had happened,” he gently said, his gaze unwavering, “but I cannot help you unless you tell me what happened.”

The distressed witch haphazardly wiped her face and firmly nodded her head. “W-while I was called for work,” she shakily started, “M-Mrs. Figg came over t-to look after Rose.”

She paused to compose herself, and Draco’s grip on her tightened, trying to relay as much comfort as he could.

“A-and then, w-when I came home, Mrs. Figg was hexed badly and R-Rose… R-Rose… S-she’s _gone_.” She choked up and openly cried, hands crumpling helplessly on Draco’s shirt.

He had gone white with her revelation, his mind running a hundred miles per minute to think of plausible perpetrators that may have kidnapped Rose. As the celebrated War Heroine, Hermione had a lot of enemies and Draco feared he already had an idea who took her daughter.

“MALFOY!”

Draco flinched, Potter’s unmistakable voice echoing throughout his silent flat, and feared for the worst. Immediately scrambling up and helping Hermione onto her feet, Draco opened his bedroom door and walked outside.

Potter whirled around, looking disheveled and crazed, and upon seeing Hermione’s face, all the color drained from his face.

“What are you doing here?” Draco demanded, his mind still reeling from Rose’s kidnapping.

“I… well…” Potter paused, took a sharp intake of breath, then continued, “There was an escape. _Lestrange_ escaped.”

Draco’s grip on Hermione tightened, but he did not reply anything in return.

“I apparated to Hermione’s, but when I saw blood everywhere with a badly cursed Mrs. Figg I thought…” Potter visibly sagged, obviously relieved that his best friend was all right. But then, after giving her another inquisitive gaze, his eyes widened. Harry looked around frantically, before terror took over his face.

“Wait… where’s Rose?”

Hearing her daughter’s name, Hermione’s sobs turned guttural. Harry had gone white once more when he questioningly looked at Malfoy, who shook his head.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Harry said, starting to pace. “I was desperately praying she wasn’t…” His voice faltered as he ran a hand through his hair. “This isn’t coincidental, is it?”

“How the _fuck_ did Lestrange even escape?” Draco yelled, overwhelmed by the fear he was feeling over the life of Hermione’s daughter. “You were supposed to look over him. I _told_ you it was a bad idea to keep him alive, but did you fucking listen to me? He is fucking crazy, Potter. He is a sick bastard who have no smidge of morality left in his system.”

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Harry hollered back. “Do you think I wanted this to happen? Lestrange was under surveillance, 24/7. The best aurors took shifts to look after him. The most advance wards are casted to ensure that he won’t escape!”

“Yes, well, _fuck you_ , Potter, because your most advanced wards and your bloody best aurors were not enough to keep him from breaking away!”

“ _How dare you_ –“

“SHUT UP!” Hermione shrieked. “SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!”

Harry clamped his mouth, heaving deeply, his green eyes glinting dangerously.

“My daughter is missing!” she spat back, her face crumpling once more as the weight of her words finally sank in. “My _daughter_ is missing and I don’t have time for your petty fights.”

She muttered the last words in a broken whisper, but they were enough to make the two wizards ashamed.

Draco, after a deep intake of breath, finally took a step forward. “Were you at least able to put a tracking charm on Lestrange?” he asked, directing his question to Harry.

The-Boy-Who-Lived ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “We were able to,” he started, “but we lost track of him an hour ago. Two Death Eaters broke him out of the Ministry, but we know that Lestrange is unarmed. He doesn’t have his own wand, but I’m sure he was given a spare one.”

“Good,” Draco said, massaging his temples. “Seeing the abysmal number of rogue Death Eaters, they cannot afford to flee the country without gathering enough resources. I think it is safe to say that they haven’t gotten far.”

“We have a lead,” Harry announced. Draco bit back a comment, wanting to lash out at Potter for being stupid enough to delay such announcement, but Harry was already talking. “We received a tip that rogue Death Eaters are sighted in Plymouth. A _child_ is with them, too, and I am willing to bet everything that the child is Rose. A band of aurors are already preparing to go while we are speaking right now.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Plymouth,” he repeated, scowling upon recognizing the place. “I think I know where he’s hiding.”

Both Hermione and Harry looked at him sharply. “Let me come with you,” Draco said, resolutely looking at Harry. “I know Lestrange. He might be crazy, but he is outstanding with a wand.”

Harry shook his head adamantly. “You’re not an auror, Malfoy,” he reasoned out. “You’re a bloody civilian.”

“Damn it, Potter, I fought in the _War_ ,” Draco growled. “Let me come with you. I can help you arrest him. _I want to save Rose_.”

Potter looked conflicted, but finally sighed and nodded his head. Then, addressing Hermione, he said, “You should stay here. I don’t think it’s a good idea that you come with us, Hermione.”

“No,” she grounded out. “This is my _daughter_ , Harry.” More fresh tears welled from her eyes, begging her best friend to understand. “You can’t stop me from coming.”

Draco knew Harry’s resolved had already broken. Tiredly running a hand through his face, Harry sighed. “Fine,” he spat, still clearly against Hermione accompanying them. Draco also felt that Hermione was too close to the case, and he worried she might be in danger too if she came. Knowing Hermione, however, he knew that she would fiercely protest until they conceded. “I’ll go back to the Ministry and alert Davies. I’ll meet you both here after ten minutes. For now, _stay put_ , for the love Merlin. I’ll be right back.”

Harry soon disapparated, and Hermione crumpled on the floor.

“Granger,” Draco gravely said, crouching down in front of the distressed witch. “We will find her.”

“What if… what if something already happened to her?” she asked, gripping him tightly as unadulterated fear flashed in her eyes.

Draco shook his head. “No, Rose is too valuable,” he reasoned out.

“Oh gods,” Hermione cried. “What if… what if s-she’s d–“

“ _We_ will find her,” he firmly stated, refusing to let her finish whatever she was about to say. “Hermione, listen to me. I promise you. We will _find_ her. I promise.”

Hermione hiccupped and nodded her head.

“Okay,” she whispered, closing her eyes in pain and fear. “Okay.”

He allowed her to tightly hold onto him, drawing out as much strength as she could, and waited for Potter’s return.


	19. The Rescue

Draco scowled, recognizing his late aunt’s dilapidated safe house. Once upon a time it was a beautiful home, mostly maintained by the Lestranges' house-elves since their masters were too Voldemort-crazed to even bother about making it homely.

Shivering, he remembered horrible childhood summers and questionable accidents that occurred here. During the War, with Voldemort and his Death Eaters constantly on the loose, they had often used Bellatrix’ safe house for hideouts and recruitment. The air around the house was heavy with dark, residual magic, echoes of tortured souls still ringing loudly in his mind.

He thought Rodolphus was stupid enough to choose this house as their hiding place. But then again, without his stupidity, they wouldn’t be able to know their location in the first place.

Potter, the leader of the rescue team, strode forward and brandished out his wand. He waved his wand and a string of purple light escaped and shoots up into the sky. Then, like a small firework, it burst into eight different speckles of light before completely disappearing.

It meant that eight people were inside the house. Draco was not sure whether it was a good thing or not.

Harry then went back to hiding and looked directly at Draco.

“Malfoy,” he addressed, “you know this place more than anyone in this group. What should we do?”

His eyes widened a little. “I thought you have a plan,” he whispered back with a frown.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, and my plan is to make you lead in this mission,” he grounded out. “Because you were right; even if you’re not an auror, I’ve worked with you as an Order member and bloody fucking hell, I trust you and you’re _brilliant_ at this. My gut tells me we will have lesser casualties if I made you leader.”

Draco suddenly felt nervous. The last time he was on the field was five years ago and he didn’t trust his skills anymore. But then, one look at Hermione, how her eyes were wide with devastation and trust, he knew that he had no other choice but to step up.

For Rose. For Hermione.

Taking a deep breath, he let the gears in his head turn for a while, before finally resolutely nodded his head. “All right,” he said, brandishing out his own wand. “Wait for me here. I’ll be quick.”

Before anyone could ask him what he was planning, Draco broke away from the group and walked a little further in the forest. He scanned the forest for any signs of Death Eaters, his senses heightened in case any defense was needed. Then, satisfied that he was alone, he vividly recalled every detail of that rollercoaster ride in Happy Land with Rose and Hermione, before drawing a circle and muttering, “ _Expecto Patronum_.”

A great, dazzling wolf bounded out from his wand. Draco then proceeded to whisper an order before his Patronus sprinted away, once again drenching the forest with darkness.

Draco mentally said a silent prayer of hope as he returned to the small group. Potter looked agitated, ready to pounce at him for answers, but Draco already beat him to it. “Here’s the plan,” he said, scanning the small group. “We are going to lure out Lestrange and his band of bastards as soon we step foot in the house. And what I mean by that is _immediately_.”

“Isn’t Rose our priority?” one auror asked, a middle-aged man with visible, abundant freckles on his face despite the dark.

“I know that,” Draco snapped, briefly looking at the silent Hermione.

“Then why don’t we snatch up the girl first before confronting the Death Eaters?”

The auror, christened Freckles by the blond, became the receiving end of Draco’s glare. “Why don’t you just shut up for now and listen to me?” he snarled. To his disgruntlement, Freckles merely raised an eyebrow but had thankfully clamped his mouth shut.

“As I was saying,” Draco continued, “the better thing to do is to lure out Lestrange and the Death Eaters first as soon as possible before doing anything to rescue Rose. The whole place is booby trapped and I don’t want anyone of us setting off any traps before either rescuing Rose _or_ catching those bastards. I may not be a bloody auror but I believe you both want those, not either.”

He directed his last sentence to Potter, who stiffly nodded his head.

“Therefore, the best strategy is to do one thing first before the other,” he continued. “Rescuing Rose first will be dangerous for her if Death Eaters are still on the loose. She may be caught in the middle of the crossfire and we _fucking_ don’t want that.”

Beside him, Hermione lightly shivered and it took all of Draco’s willpower not to turn to her and give her a litany of assurances. Time is of the essence right now, after all.

“Are you sure about this, Malfoy?” Potter asked, furrowing his brow.

“Trust me,” Draco grounded out. “I know what I’m doing.”

Harry looked at him for thirty-six seconds before finally nodding his head.

“All right,” he said, now scanning the group. There were seven aurors, including him, who were part of the core group. Back-ups were already dispersed all over the forest in case some rogue Death Eaters decided to show up or escape.

“Nostrils, Mole, Tattoo, and Beady,” Draco said, pointing at the aurors he didn’t recognize. Harry lifted an eyebrow at his nicknames but didn’t comment anything. “I want you to enter through the back. The first door to the right will lead you to the dungeons.”

He felt Hermione flinch beside him, prompting him to inconspicuously grasp her hand in assurance. “Lestrange usually do not put his prisoners in the dungeons,” he guaranteed. “But, just to make sure. Don’t worry about triggering any traps; Lestrange would not put any in the dungeons. Watch out for fire crabs, though. The dungeons are infested with them.”

The other four aurors questioningly looked at Harry, waiting for further instructions, but The-Boy-Who-Lived merely rolled his eyes.

“You heard him, for Merlin’s sake!” Potter snapped. “Go!”

They all nodded, brandished their wands, and Disillusioned themselves and left the group.

“Now, Granger, Potter, and… Freckles,” he said, frowning at the last member of the group. “We’re going through the front door. I must warn you, there are more booby traps. So please, for the love of Merlin, do not advance until I tell you it is safe. Rodolphus is fucking crazy and paranoid. You have no idea how booby trapped this safe house is. Understand?”

His other three companions nodded their head.

“All right,” Draco said, brandishing out his wand. “Let’s go.”

He then proceeded to Disillusion himself. “Keep close to me,” he whispered to the other three.

The small team slowly crept out from the forest, wands already poised in the air for defense. Dark magic was steadily growing thicker as they advanced closer to the safe house. Draco could feel his blood pounding in his ears, his heart drumming like crazy he was afraid that the rogue Death Eaters would be able to hear it. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, mingled with the crippling worry he felt for Rose’s wellbeing. He prayed to whomever could hear him that the child was safe and that Rodolphus couldn’t escape, because he already had a lot of plans on what to do with him.

“Wait,” Draco then sharply whispered, drawing the group into a halt. Glaring at the ominous oak tree that had tormented him in his childhood, Draco waved his wand and muttered a complex litany of spells. The tree glowed green, squirming as Draco deactivated the spell, before finally stilling.

He gave the go signal and they advanced once more.

As they neared the porch, Draco muttered a soft _‘Specialis Revelio’_. The door merely had a harmless locking charm which was quickly undone with a muttered _‘Alohomora’._

The door creaked open and Draco held his breath. Quickly scanning inside, he didn’t see any suspicious artifacts scattered about and deemed it safe to enter.

Eyes trained on the walls of the abandoned house, he saw a shimmer of distortion and inwardly smirked. One thing he would always remember about his uncle was that he was too impatient to lurk about. Rodolphus Lestrange always wanted to welcome his enemies with open arms, damn secrecy and hiding.

He was about to take his third step when he felt a wand tip poking at his lower back. _‘Bingo, you arsehole,’_ Draco thought. Smirking triumphantly, he waited for his Disillusionment charm to completely disappear, before saying, “Hello, _Uncle_.”

“Draco,” Rodolphus whispered against his ear, his pungent breath washing over his nostrils. The blond wrinkled his nose in disgust as Lestrange slowly moved in front, his wand still pointed firmly towards his direction. “Imagine my surprise when MacNair reported my nephew is coming to rescue the half-blood scum.”

“Where the hell is my daughter?!” Hermione screamed from behind him.

A sickening smile appeared on Rodolphus’ face as he peered at Hermione. “Don’t worry, mudblood, your daughter is in safe hands,” he cackled, his crazed eyes lighting up in amusement. Hermione had already burst into angry tears, wildly trashing about as MacNair held a firm grip on her arm.

“Please, please, take me instead,” Hermione begged. “Please, not my daughter. Please, I beg you.”

Draco felt the roaring anger at the pit of his stomach, sickened by the devastation in Hermione’s voice, and stared Rodolphus down. “Give us the child and we can go on our merry ways now, yes?” he said through gritted teeth.

Another atrocious cackle escaped from the Death Eater’s mouth. “Oh, nephew of mine, you know that it isn’t simple, right?” he said, clucking his tongue.

“What do you want, Lestrange?” Draco barked narrowing his eyes, knowing that if they dragged this for too long, Rose’s life might already be at stake.

His face twisted into an ugly scowl. “We want you to stop _fucking_ hunting us down,” Lestrange snarled. “Leave us be. We will flee this country.” He stretched out his thin arm and glared darkly at Draco. “An Unbreakable Vow. If you promise to leave us be, we will return the child.”

“Fine,” Draco spat.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Potter yelled, speaking up for the first time. “This is not part of your plan! If you broke the vow, you are going to _fucking die_.”

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco hissed. “I know how an Unbreakable Vow works.”

“Draco…” Hermione called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

The blond closed his eyes, willing for them to trust him, before finally resolutely looking at Lestrange. Then, he clasped Lestrange’s right wrist with his own. He flinched, his uncle’s grip on him tightening like a vice.

“Do it,” Draco spat.

A feral grin slowly grew on Lestrange’s face as another Death Eater strode forward and pressed the tip of his wand against their joined hands. Panic ceased Draco whole, tightly closing his eyes and praying again and again that his plan would bloody work.

His eyes flew open when the other Death Eater yelped in surprise, landing into a messy heap on the floor. Lestrange snarled in anger, but Draco took his momentary distraction as an opportunity to cast a blasting spell. Rodolphus hit the wall with a sickening crunch, managing to dislodge some debris from the ceiling.

“Am I fucking too late or what?” was Theodore Nott’s unmistakable greeting, absentmindedly blasting MacNair and setting Hermione free.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Potter yelled, also flicking his wand to hex his captor. “This is an official mission, Nott. You are not a bloody auror!”

Nott made a huge show of rolling his eyes. “You think I’ll miss all the fun, Potter?” he snarled. Then, directing his eyes to Draco as if bored out of his wits, he continued, “This is all terribly anticlimactic, Draco. When you told me you were rescuing Rose from Lestrange, I was expecting a bloody horde of Death Eaters, all waiting to be killed.”

“Yes, well, the rebellion they were building was lacking some members,” Draco replied.

Hermione then gasped, realizing that all the Death Eaters were already either unconscious or unarmed. “Rose!” she cried, lunging forward for the stairs.

Draco’s eyes widened, spluttering out a horrified “GRANGER!” It was too late when Hermione triggered a booby trap. The whole house rumbled violently, the ceiling instantly splitting into two and falling down onto them. Draco heard Potter loudly curse as he dove away and shielded himself from the shower of rocks.

As the commotion died, Draco groaned from the floor and scowled at his scraped knee. He then looked around to make sure his companions were safe, but was only able to see Potter, who had a nasty bruise on his forehead but all together safe. Lestrange was still unconscious and was a few feet away from Potter. MacNair was also unconscious, but his right leg was trapped under one of the huge boulders.

“Draco, are you all right?!”

The blond willed for his nausea to abate before unsteadily standing up from the ground. He flinched as pain shot up from his knee, but ignored it as he wobbled closer to the stone barrier. “Nott!” he called back. “Is everybody all right?”

“Granger is injured,” his best friend replied. Draco paled, took a sharp intake of breath, and cursed under his breath. “It’s nothing bad, mate, so calm the fuck down. The other auror is perfectly all right. The two bastards are still knocked out cold. And bloody hell, Draco! There are scrapes on my face. _Scrapes_!”

Fuming, Draco ignored Nott’s antics and stomped closer to the barrier. “What the hell were you thinking, Granger?!” he hollered, fists curling up into a ball to control his shaking. “I fucking _ordered_ you to stay put. I fucking _ordered_ you not to advance until I tell you it is safe!”

He flinched as Potter laid a hand on his shoulder. “Malfoy,” The-Boy-Who-Lived whispered. “Nott said she is all right. Hermione is  _fine_.”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and took deep breaths. It was only when he had somehow calmed down when he started to speak once more, “Nott, do you see any means of escape?”

There were a few moments of silence before Theo spoke up. “Yes… I think, yes,” he then replied. “But, in order to completely escape, we have to remove some rocks and I… don’t think that is a good idea. Not yet, anyway.”

Malfoy expelled a tired sigh, annoyed that Theo was right. The booby trap Granger had set managed to disturb the dilapidated house. If they were to further disturb it, the whole house would collapse without even saving Rose.

He then looked around, hoping to see any place where Rose may have been kept. The staircase leading upstairs was left unblocked and he thought it may be a start.

“Nott, stay put,” Draco ordered. “We have an opening here upstairs, so Potter and I will look for Rose. So please, damn it all, _stay put_. I am speaking to you directly now, Granger. _Fucking_ stay put.”

He was about to turn to Potter to give some instructions, but Granger called out his name. “Please… please find, Rose,” she begged her voice thick with tears and emotion. “I-I’m sorry. Just find Rose. _Please_.”

“I will,” he promised eyes hardening in pure resolution.

Draco then looked at Potter and said, “Follow me, but stay behind my back. If we triggered more booby traps, we might not escape from this shithole alive.”

Harry merely nodded his head and tightly gripped his wand. Draco mirrored his stance and turned around, slowly creeping towards the stairwell.

He _Finite-d_ a few, harmless traps until they finally reached the corridor upstairs. With a quick look, Draco was able to count that there were at least five rooms to check. During his childhood, he remembered that the Master Bedroom was off limits to him, which he learned the hard way. He could still remember the alarm he had triggered when he crept in, letting loose a series of spells which he knew would have sent him straight to St. Mungo’s, if his enraged father hadn’t pulled him back. Knowing Lestrange, he couldn’t have chosen that room because he was too lazy to remove the traps for the other dunderheads he was working with.

They couldn’t afford to open all the doors; setting more traps might disturb the already rickety house. _‘All right, Draco,’_ he frantically thought. _‘Think. Think.’_

The room at the farthest of the corridor was his childhood bedroom and his gut feeling told him it was the safest choice. Craning his neck, he gave Potter a nod, before slowly advancing towards. Along the way, he deactivated a creepy portrait of an old woman, which would shoot dark curses with her eyes if triggered.

The bedroom was unlocked and he peered through the dark. The bed was devoid of any human and Draco’s heart sunk, panic once again clouding his consciousness. But then, he heard a soft whimper on the floor, and hastily lit up all the candles in the room.

There, a haphazard heap on the floor was Rose. She was magically shackled to the bed’s railings, her face full of bruises that made him choke up in horror.

After making sure that there were no other booby traps in the room, Draco immediately dove towards Rose.

“Rose, oh fuck,” the blond sputtered out. He freed her from the shackles and cradled her into his arms. She was shaking against his chest, barely conscious, and Draco feared for the worst. “Rose, please, hang on. Please.”

“Malfoy,” Potter rasped out, his pale face coming into vision. “Let me take a look at her. I know some Healing spells.”

He was reluctant to let Rose go, but he knew she needed immediate medical attention. Potter made some complicated wand movements, muttering soft spells under his breath. Rose was engulfed with a white light, the same light he had constantly seen around his mother.

It took Harry a few more minutes before he declared that Rose was stable. “She’s going to be all right,” Harry reassured, worriedly peering down at the child. The swelling on her face had disappeared, replaced by some bruises and cuts, but _gods,_ she was still breathing and all right. “But we have to get her to St. Mungo’s soon.”

Draco nodded his head and embraced Rose to his chest once more. Both he and Harry walked down the stairs two steps at a time.

“We found her!” Draco declared. Hermione cried in relief and repeatedly called for her daughter. “Nott, remove the boulders away and immediately run out of this place. Don’t forget to grab the Death Eaters.”

“Got it, Draco.”

Harry had already magically shackled Lestrange and MacNair, and then levitated them out of the house. The other four aurors that accompanied them were already outside, with at least five more Death Eaters arrested, most likely from appearing from the surrounding forest. Inside, they heard a great rumble and more shouts, and Draco didn’t realize the breath he was holding until the unmistakable forms of Theo, Hermione, and Freckles came stumbling out, the other unconscious, levitated Death Eaters not too far behind. The whole safe house caved in, giving Draco a sick sense of relief that the house that had once given him nightmares was finally gone.

Hermione dashed immediately towards Draco, tears of relief streaming steadily down her face. “Oh gods,” she cried, collapsing into a messy heap in front of the blond. “Oh gods, R-Rose. Love, Mama’s here.”

“She’s all right,” Draco soothed, crouching down to show her Rose. “She’s all right, Hermione. We have to get to St. Mungo’s, okay?”

The brunette haphazardly wiped her face and nodded her head.

“Bring them to St. Mungo’s,” Potter then said. “We have to go back to the Ministry to take care of these bastards.”

“I think you also need to go to St. Mungo’s, Potter,” Draco said, pointing at his forehead.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled out a bottle cork from his pocket. “This is nothing, Malfoy, trust me,” he said, thrusting the cork into his hands. “This Portkey will immediately bring you to St. Mungo’s. Bring Nott with you also. I think he fractured his ankle.”

Draco concurred, watching as his best friend approached them whilst limping and grimacing in pain.

Then, with everybody touching the cork, Harry activated the Portkey.

* * *

“Granger,” Draco greeted with a frown, “you need to let those Healers check your arm.”

Hermione resolutely shook her head and wiped away some wayward tears. “Not until I’m sure that Rose is all right,” she croaked.

Draco sighed and sat down on the uncomfortable bench outside Rose’s room. It had been two hours now ever since they arrived in St. Mungo’s and the Healers were still not saying anything. Hermione was beside herself with anxiety, constantly worrying her bloodied lower lip just to keep her emotions at bay. He knew if she had her way, she would have barged inside already and demanded for an update. But the Healers had given them strict orders to stay outside, and Hermione knew she couldn’t do anything about it.

Theo was currently on the ground floor for his ankle. Hermione should have been there, too, seeing that her arm was twisted in a very odd angle, but insisted that she could wait. Draco had incessantly pestered her to go, that he’d alert her immediately if there was some news about Rose, but the stubborn witch refused.

It was strange for him to be on the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s once more, but this time for an entirely different reason. He had been so used to waiting outside for an update from Healer Matthews about his mother’s whereabouts. But now, it was _Rose’s_ he was anxiously waiting for.

“I… Draco…” Hermione whispered, her wide, watery eyes now directed onto him. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Granger, I’m not the only one you should thank.”

She managed to show a watery smile. “You have no idea how much you’ve already done for Rose… for _me_ ,” she continued, a few aberrant tears escaping from her eyes. “I just…” Her face crumpled and she sniffed. “I-I don’t think I could manage everything if you weren’t here, with us.”

His heart hummed with her words, even boldly grasping one of Hermione’s hands to squeeze it for comfort. “Thank me…” he started, nervously swallowing. “Thank me when Rose is already well. Thank me when we both know she is all right.”

Hermione squeezed his hand in return and was about to reply, when Rose’s door suddenly opened. Both Hermione and Draco were brought onto their feet when the head healer, Healer Graves, strode out.

“Mrs. Weasley,” he addressed.

“Miss Granger, please,” Hermione replied.

Healer Graves nodded his head. “Very well, Miss Granger,” he said. Then, he broke into small smile. “You need not worry anymore. Your daughter is stabilized. She didn’t sustain any physical wounds that are too life-threatening.”

“W-was she…?” Hermione asked, her throat catching, as more tears fell down from her eyes.

“No,” the healer firmly said, immediately understanding what the mother was trying to say. “We’ve performed numerous tests to see if she was sexually abused, but all were negative.”

Draco finally released a huge sigh of relief. The crippling thought that Rose might have been abused had made him sick in the stomach. It was something he knew his uncle was capable of, as he accompanied him in his numerous raids and missions before.

“However, I bear some bad news,” Healer Graves continued. Beside him, Hermione stiffened and Draco instantly placed a comforting hand on her lower back. “This had been a particularly traumatizing event for your child. Rose is still unconscious, so we cannot deduce the extent of mental trauma she suffered from her kidnapping. I already contacted a Mind Healer to assess your child once she wakes up.”

Hermione solemnly nodded. “May we… may we see her?” she asked.

Healer Graves nodded and stepped aside. The brunette immediately barreled inside, with Draco following suit. The other healers inside excused themselves and left, leaving only Hermione and Draco with an unconscious Rose.

The mother choked out more sobs, but Draco knew it was more from relief. Blue and white light engulfed Rose’s unconscious, small form and she looked pale, _so pale_. The only indications that she was still alive were her deep breaths.

“Oh, Rosie,” Hermione cried, plopping on one of the chairs and grabbing hold of Rose’s hand. “Mama’s here. I’m so, so sorry, my love. Mama wasn’t able to protect you.”

Draco knew he should go to give the mother and daughter some privacy. He wordlessly turned around and was about to walk away, but he suddenly felt a slight tug on his jumper. Glancing down, he saw Hermione’s other hand tightly clutching his clothes.

“Please don’t go,” she then whispered.

His eyes connected with her wide, brown ones.

“Please don’t go, Draco,” Hermione repeated. She let go of his jumper and instead held onto his hand.

“Okay,” he replied, tightening his hold. “I won’t go anywhere.”

 


	20. The Truth

“Pardon my intrusion, but I was under strict orders from Potter to kick you out of this room,” Theo greeted with a small smile. His leg fracture was already fixed; the only indication he was injured last night was the slight limp he was sporting, which would be gone after a few more days.

Draco snorted from the hospital couch he was lounging on. “Since when do you listen to Potter?” his best friend asked, quirking a blond eyebrow.

“Since _never_ ,” Theo emphasized. “But, as much as it pains me to say, I actually agree with him.” He turned his eyes on an obviously fatigued brunette and tutted. “Granger, seriously, you need to go home. Your arm isn’t completely healed. Your hair is a bloody mess. I won’t be surprised if rats started to appear on your hair.”

“There won’t be any rats in here, Nott,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly. “This is a _hospital_.”

Theo sighed and shook his head. “You really are no fun, Granger,” he said with a pout. “Seriously, though, I think you should go home.”

Hermione frowned and resolutely shook her head. “No. I have to be here when Rose finally wakes up.”

Draco sighed and stood up from the couch. “Theo’s right,” he said. “You haven’t slept last night. Healer Graves already said that the worst is over. The Mind Healer also said there won’t be any repercussions. I think what is best for all of us now, is to call it a night and sleep in our respective homes.”

Earlier, a Mind Healer, Healer Dawlish, came by to check on Rose’s mind. Although unconscious, she was able to reassure that Rose was mentally well. She suspected that Rose was most of the time unconscious when beaten up by Lestrange, most likely by a more sympathizing Death Eater, and might not remember much of her abduction. It would still be best to check on her once she was awake, but Healer Dawlish already told the mother that her daughter was out of any forms of harm.

“I’m staying,” Hermione still said with a stubborn frown.

“Must you really be so difficult, Granger?” Draco asked with a scowl. The witch looked at him as if betrayed, thinking that he would at least understand her better than Nott. “Do you want Rose to see you like this?”

She looked away from him, fully knowing that she looked like a mess.

“I’ll be here,” Theo reassured. “Probably not a stellar babysitter compared to Draco, but Merlin, Granger, I was able to take care of Rose for a day. I think I’ll manage, especially since she’s still unconscious.”

“You brought her to a _date_ , Nott,” Hermione pointed out, prompting the Slytherin to flinch. “That is bloody irresponsible.”

Theo sighed. “You’re never going to live that down, eh?” he asked, chuckling when Hermione vigorously shook her head. “Figures. _Fine_ , if you are so worried about my babysitting skills, Potter will soon arrive and look after Rose instead.”

Hermione looked at Draco pleadingly, but the blond shook his head. “You need to sleep,” Draco firmly said. “At least for an hour, then you can go back as soon as you’re awake. I promise.”

She sighed, knowing that these two Slytherins would pester her to go home until she conceded. Hermione still had some qualms about leaving Rose behind, especially after her kidnapping, but Theodore Nott would be here. Draco seemed to completely trust him, so by default, she trusted him too. He saved them from the other Death Eaters, anyway. Some aurors were also stationed outside of her room for protection. Still, it did not quite settle for her to leave her daughter alone.

But they were right. She was a mess. She needed to rest. Rose needed her to be happy and healthy once she woke up. Thus, she wordlessly stood up from her the seat next to Rose’s bed and strode towards Draco. Hermione had to fight back a smile when the other two wizards were looking at her as if she had sprouted a second head.

“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “I should take a nap.”

“Well, that was easy,” Theo said with a laugh. “I actually learned some defensive spells before barging in here, Granger, in case you unleashed your scary powers.”

The brunette lightly glared at him. “Don’t push it, Nott,” she warned. Theo chuckled once more, maybe a tad nervously, and raised both of his arms in surrender.

“Come on, then,” she said to Draco. Now that she was up, she actually felt tired and sleepy. Taking a nap was definitely a right choice.

* * *

He accompanied her to her flat, just to make sure that Granger was true to her word and would actually sleep. They both opted to use the floo, afraid that they might splinch themselves if they apparated instead.

As Draco stumbled out from the floo, brushing some soot from his jumper, he narrowed his eyes and warned, “If you don’t bloody rest, Granger, I _swear_ -”

Hermione softly chuckled at him, her eyes already half-closed, before she released a huge yawn. “I will rest,” she promised. “Merlin, I am really knackered. I’ll just freshen up and then take a nap.”

He nodded his head, and then turned around. He proceeded to get a pinch of floo powder, preparing himself to go home, but Hermione had latched onto his arm.

“Where are you going?” she inquired with a frown.

“Home,” he answered. “If you must know, Granger, I am knackered too. I should also take a nap.”

Her frown deepened and she looked away from him. “Can’t you… can’t you stay?” she shyly asked, a small blush splattering her cheeks. “I just… err…” Her brown eyes connected with his grey ones. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Draco, throat clogging up with nerves, wordlessly nodded his head.

“You can freshen up after me,” she whispered. Again, not trusting himself to speak, Draco merely nodded his head.

Hermione reappeared after a few minutes, looking clean and slightly better. She donned on a pair of pajamas, carrying a pillow and blanket with her. Draco thought they were for him, but when Hermione plopped down on the couch and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, he stared.

“What?”

“You’re on the couch.”

She frowned, slightly confused. “And?”

“Well,” Draco started, “since you fervently refused for me to go back to my own house, I thought I’d be crashing on your couch for now. But seeing you already claimed that spot…”

Her cheeks reddened, her eyes growing a little wide. “Oh,” the brunette answered. “I… err… I-I don’t think I want to sleep in my room alone. And well…” She shifted her eyes away from him. “I think it will frankly be awkward if I invited you over to my room” – Draco balked – “so, the next plausible thing is for me to crash here on the couch.” She caught his eyes once more. “With you.”

Draco took a sharp intake of breath, cursing his bloody heart for racing at her words. When Granger said she didn’t want to be alone today, he wasn’t ready with the fact that she meant it _literally_.

“R-right,” he stuttered, firmly believing he needed to shower now. “All right. Be right back.”

He had stayed too long in the shower, too nervous to come out and sleep with her on the couch. Draco debated whether he should wait for an hour more, just to make sure that Hermione had finally fallen asleep, but knew she might have escaped and went back to St. Mungo’s without resting.

After _‘Scourgify-ing’_ his clothes, he wore them once more and strode into the living room, half-praying that Granger was already asleep. Draco scowled upon seeing that she was still very much awake, although obviously fighting sleep.

 _'Oh, fuck it,’_ Draco thought, stiffly settling on the other end of the couch.

An awkward silence settled between the two of them. Draco tried to rack his brain for anything to say because he surely couldn’t sleep, now that he was hyperaware of the witch sitting a few inches away from him.

“Thank you.”

He blinked and looked at the brunette sitting beside him. Draco took a sharp intake of breath at the look on her face. She was looking at him openly, brightly, her eyes sparkling with emotions he could not understand. A small smile was playing on her face and it took him a moment to realize he was staring for too long.

“W-why are you thanking me again?” he asked, immediately looking away from her and praying she didn’t catch the blush on his cheeks.

“You said I should thank you once we know Rose is well,” Hermione pointed out. “And since her Healers assured us that the worst is over, that she would be all right… well, _thank you_ , Draco.”

His eyes sought hers once more. Draco could not understand how a person could be so breathtaking, despite the horribly bushy hair or the dark bags under her eyes. It was unfair, _absolutely_ unfair, that she could elicit such emotions from him whatever the situation was.

“Rose is…” He paused, gulped down his emotions, and continued, “I’ve grown quite fond of your daughter. I cannot bear the thought of losing her to that bastard.”

Fresh tears welled in her eyes and Draco panicked, wondering if he said something wrong. But Hermione was chuckling, scooting closer to him until their thighs were touching.

“I hope everybody sees what man you have become, Draco,” she whispered.

“Well, not everybody is as accepting as you are, Granger,” he grumbled, thinking about Beardy McLaggen and his unfair management. He recalled all the judgmental stares and hisses he had to endure every time he ventured out of his flat. He remembered all those who cursed him, telling him he should have been sent to Azkaban despite his change of heart. And Draco accepted them all, unceasingly, because he knew they were right. That despite his change of role in the war, he still did a lot of unforgivable things in the past and he rightfully deserved to be punished.

“Everybody deserves a second chance,” she softly reminded him. “Especially _you_. Gods, if only there is a way for me to show the whole world how much you’ve changed.”

Draco closed his eyes and leaned against the couch. “It’s not your job to prove that I’ve changed, Granger,” he pointed out. “You have other things to busy yourself with.”

Hermione scoffed, prompting him to lightly smile. _‘Champion of the Poor and Downtrodden, indeed,’_ he fondly thought.

“You know what’s strange, though?”

“What?”

“That after hearing you call me by my first name, I thought you’d continue using it.”

His eyes flew open as he glared down at the highly amused witch. “That was a one-time thing, Granger,” he spat. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“It sounded nice, you know,” she confessed, her cheeks coloring. “Hearing my name from your mouth.”

Draco matched her color, thinking that both of them were too close for comfort.

“You never once called me that when we were on missions, too,” she said, now lightly pouting. “Even after you started trusting in me.”

“Habit,” he flippantly said. Well, as flippantly as he could.

“But I call you by your first name,” she protested.

Draco made a huge show of rolling his eyes. “Why are you making a big deal out of this?” he exclaimed in exasperation. “I thought we agreed that we’ll both sleep our tiredness away and immediately go back to St. Mungo’s?”

Hermione sighed and leaned back on the couch. “I can’t sleep,” she revealed. “I know I am tired. I can feel _it_. But, try as I might, I cannot sleep a wink. I think… well… I just worry for Rose too much. And I know, _I know_ , she is well. Nott is with her. Aurors are stationed outside. Harry will drop by soon. But every time I close my eyes, my imagination suddenly takes over and I cannot _bear_ the images of my daughter, under the mercy of Lestrange, and...”

She trailed off, looking distressed once more. Draco did not know what he could do to put her mind at ease when he himself was experiencing the same thing. He was thankful it was him that had found Rose, bruised and battered on that cold bedroom floor. He couldn’t imagine the trauma Hermione would experience if it was her who had seen Rose first.

“Granger,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

Hermione blinked, a single tear trailing down from her eye, before obliging.

“Rose is well. She is safe,” Draco assured. “I know you worry for her, but she is _safe_.”

She vigorously nodded her head, discreetly wiping away her tears. “You’re right,” she said, chuckling to herself. “Harry and Ron used to tell me I worry too much.”

Draco, mockingly, nodded his head with all the seriousness he could muster. “Worrywart, yes, that’s what you are,” he retorted with a smirk. It turned into a grin when Hermione playfully swatted his arm.

“I think you just need some tea to calm down. Maybe I should prepare -”

“No!”

He looked at her, surprised.

Hermione refused to meet his gaze. “What I mean to say is… err…” she sputtered. “Just… just don’t leave. Stay here. I don’t need tea.”

Draco looked at her strangely. “Well, _I_ want some,” he insisted. Upon seeing Hermione’s frown, he sighed. This woman would one day be the death of him, he was sure of that. “ _Fine_. I won’t prepare it myself… Tippy!”

His house-elf appeared before him with a loud pop. Normally, Tippy would have bowed low and question his need, but he was too busy looking around Granger’s flat with wide eyes. “Miss Hermione!” Tippy gushed out, hand over his heart. “Tippy terribly misses you, Miss Hermione.”

Draco tried to hide his smirk as Hermione was torn between being touched with Tippy’s words and mild irritation at Draco for calling out a house-elf. “I miss you, too,” she finally said with sigh.

The house-elf practically preened with her words. His ears dropped, however, when he noticed the obvious fact that her daughter was missing. “But, where is Little Miss Rose?”

The two shared a look, silently concurring it wasn’t wise to reveal to him about Rose’s current status.

“She is… _away_ ,” was what she settled to answer.

Tippy merely nodded his head, although still peering curiously at them. Then, as if remembering that he was summoned by his master, he immediately bowed low at Draco. “Master Draco requires for Tippy’s assistance?” he asked.

“Yes, please prepare some tea for Granger and me,” he requested.

The house-elf bowed and disappeared with a pop.

“I told you I don’t want to drink tea,” Hermione commented with a frown.

“You’re just annoyed I’m ordering around a house-elf,” Draco pointed out with a smirk.

Before she could retort something back, Tippy reappeared, balancing a tray of tea and some scones he also graciously prepared. After Hermione thoroughly thanked him for his service, Tippy finally bid them goodbye and left.

“Drink your tea,” he ordered. “Then, for the love of Merlin, get some rest, Granger.”

* * *

Her tea was long finished, but Hermione still could not rest. She knew she should already sleep so that they could go back to the hospital for Rose. Seeing that there were no owls or emergency firecalls from Theo or Harry, Hermione knew that Rose still had not woken up. Hermione also suspected she would never hear the end of it from her best friend if she reappeared in the hospital, obviously not well-rested. And so, almost reluctantly, she relaxed. But not _too much_ ; she still had to be on her toes when another unforeseen event happens.

She looked at Draco, who was also widely awake like her. Hermione didn’t know if he noticed he was absentmindedly playing with her curls. She debated whether to point it out to him or not, but end up clamping her mouth in the end. It actually felt nice, and somehow it was helping to relax her tumultuous mind and heart.  

As they continued to bask in silence, her thoughts consumed her, mostly involving the man sitting beside her. Hermione could not remember the last time she had felt deep gratitude for a person. Quirking a smile, she remembered her younger self praying to anybody who could hear her to punish Draco Malfoy for just existing.

Now, she could not fathom a life without him anymore.

He had just deeply ingrained himself in their lives, weaving through all their days as if he was meant to be there. It was like he had one day planted himself and unknowingly grew roots that were too deep to be uprooted.

Recalling her earth-shattering revelation on that day they fetched Rose from the daycare, Hermione still could not believe how deep her feelings for this blond were. It was just so natural, for her to care profoundly for him, and she wondered if Draco even had an idea how much he had shook her world and Rose’s.

Ron never made her feel this way. She thought, all these years that they were really meant to be together. Everybody predicted that they would end up anyway, so why disappoint them? Rose’s birth was not a mistake; she firmly believed she had been deeply in love with Ron after all. She didn’t doubt Ron’s feelings for her, too. This was why it took her a long time to realize that the love she felt for Ron was more sisterly. She loved him as much as she loved Harry and it wasn’t _special_.

But with Draco…

Or maybe she was merely mistaking her feelings for something else. She had spent the last years putting Rose first, wanting what was best for her – what makes her daughter _happy_. And she could see that Draco in their lives made Rose infinitely happy. Her daughter finally had someone she could look up to besides her mother; sometimes, she thought that Rose seemed to love Draco morethan she loved Hermione. Strangely, it didn’t make her jealous at all. In fact, it made her… _peaceful_ , for lack of a better word.

To know that Rose had someone who would selflessly put her above all else made all years and years of fitful sleep and constant worrying seem to melt away. She had thanked the blessed stars above for Harry, for constantly sticking by their side. But Harry had his head filled with other things. Being the celebrated hero of the Wizarding World had been too much for him, and Hermione didn’t want to burden him further with her child.

 _‘Yes_ ,’ she thought with a pensive frown. _‘Maybe that was it.’_ Maybe it was because Rose finally found a suitable paternal figure in her life. Maybe it was because Hermione thanked all the good things in life that Draco had this natural parental instinct in him that made Rose matter to him. Maybe it was because to have him in their lives had somehow eased her burdens and made her breathe, _finally_ breathe, with relief.

Or maybe it wasn’t that, too?

Hermione closed her eyes and internally groaned. _‘One thing at a time, Hermione,’_ she told herself. Once Rose was better, she would sort her feelings out. For now, all that mattered was Rose. She’d think about herself soon after.

“You know, something has been bugging me for ages.”

She cracked one eye open and questioningly looked at him. When he still hadn’t spoken after a few seconds, she opened her other eye and straightened up. It was obvious he was conflicted whether to ask or not. Hence, she simply waited for him to speak.

“What… really happened between you and Weasley?”

She stiffened, eyes growing round with his question.

“Look,” he quickly added, “you don’t need to answer my question if you don’t want to. It’s not my place to ask, really.”

“No,” Hermione said after getting over her shock. “No, it’s all right. I think you should know.”

He wordlessly pinned her with his gaze and Hermione was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions. Ron’s death was still a particularly sensitive topic for her to broach. But after everything they went through, after finally catching Lestrange once and for all, she thought it was time for him to know.

“Ron and I… we were having some problems months before his death,” she started. A hollow laugh escaped from her lips, shaking her head. “ _No_ , Merlin, we were having problems even years before. All we did is fight and it was just so, _so_ tiring. I realized I was miserable with him. Rose was still too young, but… I knew in my heart that she knew something was wrong and it was making her miserable. Try as we might, we couldn’t stop fighting in front of her, and I knew that we must put a stop to it.”

Draco’s lips thinned in understanding. “You wanted to divorce,” he simply said.

Hermione nodded, tears now gathering at the corner of her eyes. “I… I cannot bear to see Rose cry every time we fought,” she said. “And so, after a particularly nasty fight, I hinted a divorce and Ron…” She faltered, closing her eyes as Ron’s devastated face came into mind. It was her last memory of him and it still breaks her heart after all these years that he died without resolving whatever issues they had.

“Ron couldn’t accept it,” she finally continued after taking in a deep breath. “He _begged_ for me to reconsider, promised me that he would change for us. He promised he wouldn’t pick a fight… that he would be a good husband to me, but I just… I knew we would never work anymore.”

She wiped away some tears from her face and continued. “He left our flat that night,” she choked, as more tears streamed down her face. “He drowned his misery with alcohol and that was how Lestrange found him, inebriated and unable to fight. M-Molly and Ginny blamed me for his death, told me it was my fault that Ron was intoxicated in the first place and I… I agreed with them. It was _my_ fault. If only I had been a good wife, if only I listened to Ron and made us work again… I just…”

She bit her lower lip, her sobs threatening to tear away from her mouth. Hermione expected Draco to look at her with judgment, to see the same accusations she had seen in the Weasleys after Ron died, but all she saw was understanding in his eyes.

“I-I know it was selfish of me,” she hiccupped. “B-but I was thinking of Rose, too. I cannot expose her to a disastrous marriage. A-and it just pains me that because of my decisions, because of my selfishness, Ron died a-and Rose only has me.”

“You’re wrong.”

Her eyes widened at his claim, but upon seeing the small smile on his face, she grew curious. “W-what?” she asked.

“You’re not the only person Rose has,” he expounded. “She has Potter and… and _me_.” His cheeks colored a little and he looked away. “Bloody hell, she even has Theo!”

Hermione released a watery chuckle despite her emotions.

“And maybe you are partly to blame,” Draco then said. “The Weasleys, after all, lost a son and a brother. But I think… I think it isn’t healthy for you to continue dwelling in the past, to continue blaming yourself for everything that had happened to you and to your daughter.” He took a deep breath and gingerly held her hand. “The best thing to do now is to forgive yourself. For your own sake. For _Rose’s_ sake. The Weasleys may one day come around, maybe not sooner than what you hoped, but of course they need more time.”

She smiled at the situation, of Draco Malfoy comforting her above all else. But most importantly, she smiled at his words, knowing that he should follow it, too. Still, it warmed her heart how he was trying his best to give her some semblance of comfort.

“Thank you, Draco,” she said, wiping her tears away. Draco fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and she almost rolled her eyes at his embroidered initials on it. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

He nodded, eyes sparkling and lips stretched into a lovely smile. Hermione found her heart skipping a beat once more as her cheeks warmed with his look.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered, reaching forward to brush a stray curl away from her forehead. “… _Hermione_.”

* * *

Rose woke up with a gasp, the remnants of her nightmare still clouding her mind. She instinctively grabbed for Sir Ginger, but upon noticing that her beloved plush toy was nowhere to be found, tears welled in her eyes.

“No,” she cried, blindly searching around, still desperately hoping she would be able to see Sir Ginger.

She shivered, once again recalling her strange nightmare. Everything was fuzzy to her, but she remembered strange, masked men hovering above her as they maniacally laughed. She could not understand what they were saying nor doing; all she could understand was how frightened she was and wished that her Mama was with her.

“Mama?” she then croaked, haphazardly wiping her tears away. Looking around, she finally realized that she wasn’t home. She recognized the sterile, plain room in St. Mungo’s, prompting her to frown. Looking at her clothes, she also recognized the standard gown of a St. Mungo’s patient.

Rose was confused, trying to wiggle her body to see if there was anything that had hurt. She tried to recall if she had any accidents at home; Aunt Figgy always told her she was too much of an accident-prone and wouldn’t be surprised if she would be brought to St. Mungo’s one day.

Still, Rose could not remember why she was here. Fear gripped her heart when she was still unable to see her mother. More tears welled up in her eyes, sniffling in distress, and was about to jump down from her bed and zoom out of the room to search for her mother, when a soft snore from nearby startled her.

Curious, she jumped down from her bed to investigate. She paused for a while, shivering at how cold the floor was, but the snoring continued.

Rose quietly tiptoed until she reached the small couch and was surprised to see a sleeping Draco. Pure relief flooded her system, knowing that without Sir Ginger or her mother to comfort her, Draco will do.

“Draco?” she called, poking him on his stomach. The blond flinched and batted her hand away, before shifting on his seat and not even cracking an eye open.

The child figured he might have had a long day. Soft snores startled her once more and she had to giggle behind her hand to stifle the sound.

Instead of waking him up once more, Rose gently clambered on the chair and snuggled against him. Draco automatically draped an arm around her. The redhead smiled and closed her eyes, still feeling a little tired and sleepy. She didn’t feel scared of her nightmare anymore, though, because she knew Draco would be here beside her.

* * *

Hermione rubbed her itchy eyes as she meandered through the busy corridors of St. Mungo’s.

She and Draco finally arrived back after taking a well-deserved two-hour nap on her couch. Hermione still couldn’t recall how they finally fell asleep. After he had said her first name, her mind buzzing and her heart thrumming wildly inside her ribcage, everything was a blur to her. The next thing she knew, Draco was waking her up and telling her to get ready to go back to St. Mungo’s.

When they arrived, it was Harry who greeted them. The auror looked positively exhausted, and after grunting a hasty goodbye to them, he Disapparated away. Hermione wouldn’t be surprised if Harry managed to splinch himself due to fatigue.

Rose still hadn’t woken up when they arrived. Healer Dawlish arrived a few minutes after, requesting to talk to Hermione in private. Draco assured that he would look after Rose while she talked to the Mind Healer.

Her meeting with Healer Dawlish went well. She told the mother that Rose still did not exhibit any severe repercussions from her abduction and believed that her daughter would leave the hospital unscathed - save from some bruises and scrapes. Nightmares may occasional occur, but she assured her that they shouldn’t be any cause of worry.

It was like a huge burden was suddenly lifted from Hermione and she fervently thanked the cosmic powers above that her Rosie was safe from harm.

Her thoughts were halted when she finally reached her daughter’s room. As she stepped through, horror struck her raw when she found Rose’s bed empty. But then, after a quick scan of the room, she immediately found her daughter, tucked snuggly against Draco, who once again fell asleep on the couch.

Hand over her heart, Hermione approached the slumbering pair with a huge smile on her face. If Rose managed to snuggle against Draco, it meant she had already woken up. Perhaps, cuddling with Draco lulled her back to sleep.

“Draco,” she called, her fingers lightly touching the top of his head.

The blond stirred, cracking his eyes open to look at her. He then suddenly stiffened, finally noticing the small child pressed against him. “She’s…”

“Shh, she’s sleeping again,” Hermione whispered back with a smile. “But yes, I think she woke up.”

The relief that appeared on his face was tremendous and it warmed Hermione’s heart how he didn’t even bother hiding it from her.

“How did your meeting with Healer Dawlish go?” he asked, absentmindedly playing with Rose’s curls.

“It went well,” she replied. “She was confident that Rose will not have any repercussions from her abduction.”

A small smile appeared on his face. “That is good to hear,” he said with a sigh. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Blimey, she really is growing up too fast.”

It made her heart hum, seeing them together, and the dangerous thought that _perhaps_ , they would all look good as a family resurfaced in her mind again. Blushing, Hermione willed those thoughts away. She was just beginning to make some sense of her newfound feelings for Draco. It wouldn’t do her some good if she imagined too far into the future.

Her eyes widened, however, when Rose suddenly stirred in Draco’s arms and opened her eyes. Hermione waited with bated breath as her daughter’s wide, blue eyes swept between her and Draco, before lifting her arms and wriggling her fingers.

Tears welled in Hermione’s eyes once Rose was settled against her, ignoring her protesting arms with her daughter’s added weight.

“Sweetheart,” she whispered, brushing a light kiss against her forehead, “how are you feeling?”

“Mama,” Rose rasped out. Her voice made her more emotional, pressing her daughter closer to her. “I’m hungry.”

She chuckled, tears now freely streaming down her face. Draco was sporting a disbelieving smirk on his face, but she could see that he was very much relieved.

“Oh, Rosie,” Hermione sighed, cuddling her tighter. Rose giggled in her arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Are you crying, Mama?” her daughter asked with a frown. “Are you upset?” She threw a tiny glare at the seated wizard. “Did you make Mama cry again, Draco?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes whilst Hermione’s smile grew. “No, you menace,” he said, sounding slightly annoyed she was blaming him. “Can’t you see? Those are _happy_ tears. Your Mama is just too happy that you are okay.”

“Oh,” the child replied, her mouth forming into a perfect ‘o’. Her inquisitive eyes then roamed all around the room before finally settling back on her crying mother. “Why are we in St. Mungo’s, Mama?”

Hermione gave Draco a brief glance before answering her daughter. “You were hurt, my love,” she gingerly started, brushing her curls away. She still had no idea how much Rose remembered, and she didn’t want to overwhelm her too much. “So Draco and I brought you to the hospital.”

Suddenly, as if remembering something, Rose gasped. “Mama, I had a very, very bad dream!” she exclaimed, pure terror on her face. “There were big, scary men with a scary masks and Mama, I was so scared! Very scared!” Her arms tightly wound around Hermione’s neck. “I’m so glad Mama and Draco are here.”

“You’re not scared anymore, Rosie?” Hermione asked, secretly relieved that Rose believed her kidnapping was a mere nightmare.

“No, Mama, because you’re here!” she chirpily replied, face brightening with her words. “And Draco, too!”

Rose squirmed in her arms and Hermione placed her back on the ground. Then, Rose climbed back onto Draco’s lap and also gave him a tight hug. “You’ll protect me and Mama from the big, scary men, right Draco?” she sincerely asked, fully looking him in the eye. “Right?”

To Hermione’s surprise, Draco snorted. “I think your mother can singlehandedly vanquish those big, scary men you dream about,” he declared. The brunette beamed as Rose vigorously shook her head.

“But what if Mama was hurt?” she protested. “You’ll still protect me and Mama from the big, scary men?”

A small smile appeared on his handsome face. “Yes,” he firmly said unblinkingly. His grey eyes then connected with Hermione’s. “Yes, I will protect you.”

Hermione took a slow, deep breath and smiled.

If she was confused with her feelings before, she truly, fervently, terrifyinglybelieved she wasn’t anymore. 


	21. The Reunion

Rose was discharged a few more days after she woke up. Since she continued being her usual self, Draco took that as a good sign. He had reverently stayed in her room as much as his schedule permitted him. Admittedly, he was starting to neglect his work in the DIMC (and surely McLaggen wasn’t understanding), but Rose’s welfare was all that mattered to him right now.

Hermione was also excused from work and constantly accompanied her daughter. Sometimes, Potter would drop by to update them on Lestrange’s case. Thankfully, the bastard was finally scheduled for a trial. Harry assured them he would mostly likely rot in Azkaban, and Draco felt a little disappointed dementors were banned in Azkaban already and therefore unable to give kisses for evil gits like him.

Both Hermione and Rose insisted for him to sleepover the night they returned home. Draco, knowing he had no other choice, relented to their wishes. This time, he slept on their couch alone and it took all of his willpower not to invite Hermione over.

The sleepover happened the next day, too. And the next day. And the day after that.

Their lives were slowly returning to their proper paces. Draco was once again swamped with work, piles of paperwork left untouched due to his constant absence during Rose’s recuperation. He usually went home late, and missed most of the dinners in Granger’s flat, but Draco knew it was the only way if he didn’t want to suffer the wrath of Henrik McLaggen.

Now, amidst a particularly crappy project he had to finish before the week ended, he still could not understand how Harry Potter successfully invited him over for lunch _alone_. Draco mindlessly agreed at first, thinking that Hermione would join them anyway, but when the bushy-haired witch was nowhere to be found, he panicked.

“Hermione’s busy,” Potter said, also looking uneasy. “And err… _ugh, damn it_. I didn’t invite you for lunch just for some friendly chat, Malfoy.”

“Imagine the horror if that’s the case,” the blond replied, grimacing.

Harry also made a face and nervously cleared his throat. A waiter came over to take their orders, and once he left, The-Boy-Who-Lived started to explain the purpose of their meeting.

“Look, Davies was immensely impressed with you during Rose’s rescue.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow. “Why do I have a feeling this meeting isn’t about gratitude and all that shit?” he drawled, leaning back on his chair.

Harry rolled his eyes and rummaged inside his pockets. “It’s not,” he simply said. Then, he pulled two envelopes from his coat and placed them on the table. Draco eyed them in question, and Harry explained, “Those are the _glowing_ recommendations you needed to apply as a Curse Breaker in the ministry. Hermione really wanted to give this to you in person, but she’s swamped with work. However, she specifically told me she already penned this the night you said you wanted to be a Curse Breaker.”

He snorted in disbelief, not even doubting what Potter said. “And the other letter?” he asked.

Potter looked at him as if he was stupid. “The other ones from _me_ ,” he slowly said, a tinge of pink on both of his cheeks. Draco’s eyebrows flew behind his fringes, actually surprised that Potter would give him the other recommendation he needed to apply. “I’m only saying this once, Malfoy, but you were bloody _brilliant_ during the rescue mission. You have the knowledge and skills that are perfect for Curse Breakers. Hell, you can even be a damn good _auror_ if you like. Davies _desperately_ want you to apply.” He wildly gestured at the letters and smiled. “These are all just technicalities, to be honest. Our Department Head is merely waiting for you to haul your ass into the DMLE.”

Draco, with slightly shaking hands, grasped the letters. He still was conflicted; although tedious, he really wanted his proposal to push through in the DIMC. But, _bloody hell_ , this was his dream. When he was on the field, deactivating dark artifacts and booby traps, every nerve in his fiber was _alive_. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time his magic had hummed in exhilaration before they saved Rose.

“I’ll… think about it,” he finally replied, head already reeling with pros and cons.

Harry nodded his head in understanding. “Seriously think about it, Malfoy,” he warned. “I know you think people might not accept you in the DMLE, but fuck them, I will still vouch for you like what I did during your trial.”

He looked at The-Boy-Who-Lived with barely concealed surprise.

“You’ve… _changed_ , which is a good thing,” Harry expounded, refusing to meet his eyes. “And Hermione trusts you with her whole life. I might not have done well in Hogwarts, but one important lesson I’ve learned is that Hermione is _always_ right.”

Draco slightly smirked, absolutely concurring. He knew if Granger wasn’t part of the Golden Trio, there might have been a chance that Potter didn’t win in the Second War. Shivering, he refused to think what life would have been if Voldemort had won and wreaked havoc in the whole Wizarding World.

“Think about it!” was Potter’s parting words. Draco opted to stay a little longer, head still muddled with the choices he had to make.

Suffice to say, he was late for the afternoon shift, and McLaggen looked like he would have an aneurysm. Draco wondered if he’d be able to endure this in the long run.

His golden ticket weighed heavily inside his wizard robes. He seriously needed to decide soon.

* * *

“Why won’t you let me wash the dishes?” he asked, perhaps for the umpteenth time, and he could see that Hermione was starting to get fed up by it. A slow, very Malfoy smirk grew on his face as the brunette bristled and gave him a glare. She would have looked terrifying, but the soap bubbles on her hand made her a little too endearing.

“ _Because_ ,” she grounded out, “this is _my_ house. And you’re just a guest, Draco. I can’t let you wash the dishes.”

Draco sighed and leaned back on his chair. “I’ve been crashing here for days, Granger,” he reminded. “The least I can do is help you with the chores.”

She shot him a distrustful look, prompting him to roll his eyes.

“I may have a house-elf, but I still know how to do my own chores, thank you very much,” he snarled with a scowl.

“You’ve been doing enough by keeping Rose out of my hair,” she insisted. “Just… _bugger_ off, Malfoy. I like washing dishes!”

The Malfoy heir huffed in annoyance, but didn’t fight back anymore. He was, after all, fighting with a stubborn witch. He knew whatever arguments he raised, his effort would be put to waste when Hermione’s mind was already set.

“You’re still staying here for the night, right?” Hermione then asked, her back fully facing him as she went back to washing the dishes. Draco’s eyes unwittingly beheld her sight, lingering a little too long at how her Muggle denim jeans wonderfully accentuated her bum. “Draco?” she asked, craning her head to look at him when he still hadn’t answered her question. 

The blond noisily cleared his throat and averted his gaze, his cheekbones slightly pink in embarrassment at being caught. “Right,” he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I think Tippy had been crying these past few days because I don’t go home often so…”

His gaze returned to Hermione. Although he could only make out one half of her face, he knew she was pouting.

Sighing, he lightly smiled. “Maybe if you allow me to summon Tippy in your flat, he would feel better,” he said. “Think about it. Rose will see him too, and you know how much your daughter loves my house-elf.”

She was thoughtful for a while before releasing a huge sigh. “ _Fine_ ,” she said, a look of warning in her eyes. “But I still don’t like it if you order him around.”

“It’s his _job_ ,” Draco explained, rolling his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you house-elves love to be ordered around by their masters? I’m taking good care of Tippy, Granger. Don’t give me all that spew crap you kept on yammering about because I have been a _good_ master.”

“It’s S.P.E.W.,” Hermione corrected with mild irritation. “ _Fine_ , ugh, you are incorrigible, Draco Malfoy.”

“I know,” he said, a wide smirk on his face. “And also, Granger?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m going to crash here for tonight again.”

The irritation on her face was completely replaced by a wide smile on her face that made his throat dry. “Okay,” she chirped in reply.

“Mama, I’m back!”

Rose’s pattering footsteps resounded in the whole flat until she arrived in the kitchen. Upon seeing that Draco was also there, she grinned widely and gave him a big hug. “Draco, you’re here too!”

Mrs. Figg also entered the room and pleasantly smiled at the two adults in the kitchen.

“I’m eternally grateful to you, Mrs. Figg,” Hermione gushed, finally setting aside the clean utensils. She wiped her hands dry against her apron and removed it. “I’m sorry I had to ask you to accompany Rose for her playdate today. Something came up at work today, and I had to miss it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, my dear girl,” the older witch said, waving her hand dismissively. “This girl is such a dear so of course I’d gladly accompany her.” Then, bending slightly, she addressed Rose and said, “Now, be good, little miss. Don’t give your mother a hard time.”

“I will, Aunt Figgy! Goodbye!” Rose enthusiastically waved her hand as her babysitter bid them goodbye and left the house.

Hermione strode forward and lifted Rose onto the kitchen top. “How was your day, sweetheart?” she inquired.

“It was fun!” Rose squealed. “I get to play auror today! Sophie didn’t like it, but she always gets to play auror. Frank said she should learn to share, like what his Papa tells him everybody, but I think it only made Sophie cry. But that’s okay, because her Mama came and promised to give her ice cream.”

Rose then paused, widening her blue eyes and puckering out her bottom lip. Draco smirked, knowing that look meant she was about to request something from her mother.

“Can we go to Florean’s today, Mama? I want ice cream too,” she hopefully asked. “Please? Pretty, pretty please, Mama?”

“I don’t know, love,” her mother replied, hesitant. “We can ask your Uncle Harry to drop by with Florean’s, though.”

Her daughter vigorously shook her head, the petulant pout still in place. “Nooo,” she whined. “It’s Saturday, Mama! We go to Florean’s, please. Draco can come with us, too. Please, Mama.”

Hermione shot him a glance, asking for his help. He knew the mother was still hesitant of letting Rose go out to crowded places. It took a lot of convincing to let her attend her playdate, after all. She only finally agreed when Draco pointed out that Neville Longbottom would be there and her daughter was in good hands, so she didn’t need to worry.

“Rosie…”

“Mamaaa,” she whined, wrapping her tiny arms around Hermione’s neck. Draco smirked, knowing that Hermione was starting to melt with her daughter’s request. “Please. Rosie wants her ice cream.”

The brunette finally expelled a humongous sigh. “ _Fine_ ,” she grumbled, pulling her squealing daughter away from her. “I don’t know why people are being so stubborn today.” She gave him a glare, still quite sore with how their row about Tippy ended. This only made Draco’s smirk widen.

“You’re coming, right?” Rose hopefully asked him, once again sporting that huge eyes and pout.

“Of course,” Draco said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Yay! Ice cream!” Rose exclaimed, jumping down from the kitchen top. “May I please wear my favorite dress, Mama?”

Hermione sighed, a small smile growing on her face. “Yes you may,” she replied. “Now go change first before we go.”

Her daughter didn’t need to be told twice as she dashed out from the kitchen and immediately went up to her room.

“Don’t be such a worrywart, Granger,” Draco said upon seeing the witch frown. “We’ll both be with her this time. Nothing’s going to happen to your daughter.”

Hermione nervously tucked a curl behind her ear. “Of course,” she said, worrying her bottom lip. “Rose is safe.”

Draco firmly nodded his head. “Rose is safe,” he echoed in return.

* * *

Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor was thankfully not crowded. Hermione chose to sit in a secluded booth at the farthest corner of the shop for some privacy. Craning her neck, it looked like Draco didn’t mind as he was too absorbed with Rose recounting all her adventures with her friends this morning 

“Hermione!” Florean greeted with a huge smile. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I was too busy with work, Florean,” she explained with an apologetic smile. “I miss your ice creams, too.” Chuckling, she pointed at her giggling daughter, and added, “Rosie was insistent, actually, and wouldn’t stop pestering me until I bring her out for ice cream.”

Instead of smiling, Florean was now lightly frowning with distrust. She understood his look as Draco settled Rose on the bench, still completely listening to her daughter’s absurd tales.

“Hmm,” the kind owner murmured, eyes swiveling back onto Hermione. “The last time that man was here, he almost killed Rose.”

Hermione sighed and nodded her head. “I heard,” she replied. She was momentarily distracted as a loud, booming laugh escaped from Draco’s mouth, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. She caught Florean looking at her strangely, prompting her to lightly blush.

“Anyway,” she said, a wide smile now on her face, “I think he was sorry for it.”

Florean’s eyes landed on the blond once more, a thoughtful look on his face. “Rose looks happy,” he pointed out as a small smile tugged on his lips upon hearing Rose’s infectious giggles.

“She is,” Hermione said with a nod.

The old man then held her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I read about her abduction in the Prophet a few days ago,” he murmured under his breath, eyes shining with worry and sincerity. “She is all right, isn’t she?”

Hermione’s heart swelled a little for this old man who steadily became a dear friend to her. “She is,” she assured. “The healers said there weren’t any lasting damage.” A lump formed in her throat, her mind bringing her back to that nightmarish event in her life. Her eyes landed on Draco once more, who caught her eyes and gave her a small smile in return. “I’m just… _glad_ Draco was there.”

Florean squeezed her hand once more, catching her attention. “You deserve to be happy, my dear girl,” Florean told her with his sincerest smiles. “Please remember that.”

She firmly nodded her head as he shot a knowing look at Draco. _‘Soon,’_ she reassured herself. She still had a lot of planning to do, and to make sure that Draco was interested in her! How horrifying it would be if Draco Malfoy was actually just being nice to her for the sake of Rose, who had already undoubtedly captured his heart.

The ice cream parlour owner then quickly got her orders – “No peanut butter flavored ice cream, please” – and then helped Hermione bring their ice creams over.

Rose was besides herself with happiness, excitedly clapping her hands as a blueberry cheesecake-flavored ice cream was placed in front of her.

“I added extra sprinkles because I heard you had been a brave girl, Rose,” Florean said with a wink.

“Thank you, Florean!” she chirped back in reply, waving her hand enthusiastically until the old man went back behind his counter.

Hermione placed the vanilla ice cream in front of Draco. “I’m surprised you remember what I liked,” the blond pointed out.

“Oh, please,” she replied with a laugh, “I remembered how much you disliked sweets and only settled for vanilla ice creams when Minerva brought over some treats after a particularly stressful mission.”

The handsome smile he gave her made her heart jump into her throat. Hermione, fearing that her emotions would be too obvious, opted to devour her coffee crumble ice cream as a welcome distraction.

As soon as they finished eating, Rose requested to buy new books for her bedtime stories. Although Hermione had originally planned they would go home after Florean’s, she couldn’t deny her little bookworm. She pointedly ignored Draco’s knowing smirk and merely ushered an overeager Rose into Flourish and Blotts.

Thankfully, like Florean’s, it wasn’t too crowded. Christmas break would start next week; therefore the students were still in Hogwarts. Only a handful of wizards and witches were seen littered about, and it somehow put Hermione’s heart at ease.

Rose pulled both Hermione and Draco towards the kid’s section. The child was already excitedly ripping one book to another from all the bookshelves and ended up choosing a whooping fifteen books to read. Rose’s favorite was a story about a lonely dragon, who forged a friendship with a kind knight. She said it looked like Sir Ginger.

Hermione’s eyes bulged out at the cost of Rose’s books. The brunette sighed, thinking it was unfair how something educational could be so expensive, but then glared when she heard Draco chuckle.

“Let me pay for it,” he said, fishing out a bag of coins from his pockets. Hermione frowned and compared it with her obviously lighter pouch.

“No, she’s my child,” she protested. “I’ll pay for it.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, Granger, I’m _rich_ ,” he said, waving the heavy pouch in front of her face. “This is nothing. Besides, these are _books_. I’m sure my galleons will not go to waste.”

It still didn’t settle nicely to her that Draco would pay for her daughter’s things. “ _No_ ,” she grounded out.

“Don’t be so stubborn, Granger,” Draco insisted. “Let me pay for them.”

“Ugh, Malfoy, no,” she muttered in annoyance, reaching behind her back to grab onto Rose’s arm. But then, when her hand met air, she swiveled around and was horrified to see that Rose was nowhere to be found. “Rose?” she called out, panic quickly rising into her system.

Draco’s eyes widened as he too noticed the absence of the girl. His eyes frantically roamed all over the bookshop to see any telltale signs of the bushy redhead.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Hermione nervously muttered, terrified tears welling in her eyes. “I knew it was a bad idea to bring her out.”

“Granger,” Draco said, catching both of her hands. “Calm down. We will find her. I promise. Just calm down.”

A few tears escaped from her eyes but she nodded her head at the resolution in his eyes.

“I believe she is yours?”

Hermione’s eyes widened, recognizing the owner of the voice. Turning around, a sob tore away from her mouth upon seeing Ginny Weasley carrying her daughter in her arms.

“Mama, look!” Rose exclaimed in excitement as she grasped a few strands of Ginny’s hair. “We have the same hair!”

The brunette chuckled, more tears escaping from her eyes. The look in Ginny’s eyes wasn’t that of animosity, but of mild amusement at the child in her arms. Then, as her blue eyes settled on Hermione once more, tears pooled in her blue eyes.

“H-Hermione,” she hiccupped. “I-I’m sorry.”

Rose looked at her mother in alarm, noting the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Ginny,” Hermione sobbed. “You have nothing to apologize.”

“I miss you, Hermione,” her old friend confessed.

Heart humming in joy, Hermione threw her arms around Ginny and held onto her tightly. “I miss you, too,” she replied. “Oh, Ginny, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“Mama,” Rose complained. “I can’t breathe!”

Both witches chuckled, momentarily forgetting that there was a child squeezed between the two of them.

Rose wiggled both of her arms above and reached for the blond. “Draco, save Rosie!” she cried, squirming wildly in Ginny’s arms.

Draco smiled at her in amusement and unburdened Ginny by gathering Rose in his arms. Hermione chuckled, hearing Rose ask Draco who the ‘pretty, crying lady’ was. She wasn’t able to hear Draco’s answer since he left with Rose, just to give the two of them some privacy.

“I-I read what happened with Rose in the Prophet,” Ginny then said, after she lightly pulled away from Hermione to look her in the eyes. “I-I was so _scared_. It was horrible, Hermione.” She closed her eyes tightly, allowing some tear to stream down her cheeks. “ _I_ was horrible.”

Guilt was in her eyes when she opened them once more, but Hermione was having none of it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” the older witch insisted, vigorously shaking her head. “Ginny, I _understand_. You lost your brother. I cannot take that against you.”

“But you lost your _husband_ , Hermione, and we antagonized you over something you didn’t do.”

Hermione sighed and wiped away some of her tears. “But you were right,” she murmured in reply. “If I just didn’t give up, if I still gave us another chance -”

“You didn’t love him, Hermione,” Ginny whispered, her eyes shining with understanding and sadness. “As a friend, _yes_ , but as a partner…” She sighed and tucked a few curls behind Hermione’s ear and sadly smiled. “I’ve seen the signs, Hermione. I’ve seen how you were miserable with my brother, but I turned a blind eye because I was _rooting_ for you both. I wanted you to be part of my _family_.”

“Oh, Ginny,” Hermione said, gathering the younger witch into her arms again. “You’ll always be my sister, whatever happens.”

“Will you forgive me, Hermione?” the young Weasley asked. “After neglecting you all these years… and Rose! I was supposed to be the _doting_ aunt. She doesn’t remember me anymore.”

The brunette released a wet chuckle and patted her head. “I have nothing to forgive, Ginny,” Hermione said. “Besides, you have plenty of time to dote on my daughter.”

“You will let me?” she softly asked.

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re _family_. Rose would love you to be part of her life.”

Ginny held both of her hands and gave them a comforting squeeze. “All these years I’ve wasted…” She took a deep, shuddering breath and continued, “I will make it up to you, Hermione. I promise you. We’ll spend more time together, with Rose!”

“Okay,” she smiled, nodding her head. “I’d like that.” Her eyes lit up as an idea suddenly came to her. “Why don’t we have some tea? Just to catch up? I’ll let Draco and Rose know where we will go so that they can meet up with us.”

The redhead had a strange look on her face. “So it’s really true?” she whispered, askance. “Malfoy is already a big part of your life. And Rose’s.”

Hermione, not quite understanding the glint in the younger witch’s eye, slowly nodded her head. “He changed, Ginny,” she explained, having this desperate urge to let her understand. After everything Draco had done for her and her daughter, Hermione was terrified to think she couldn’t sacrifice her friendship with him for the sake of rekindling her own with Ginny.

To her utmost relief, a small, sincere smile appeared on Ginny’s face. “Harry said so, too,” she assured, giving her hand another squeeze. “I’m just… not used to seeing him like that.”

“Well, you have to get used to it because you’re going to see him a _lot_.”

Ginny eyed her curiously. “Are you two both -”

“Merlin, no!” Hermione hastily exclaimed, eyes widening at the implication of her words and gaze. Ginny looked highly doubtful, especially when she was positively sure her face was as red as the famous Weasley hair. “I-I mean… err… _it’s complicated_ because… _no_.”

The younger witch’s eyes sparkled in a way that made Hermione nervous. “Okay,” she flippantly said. Hermione’s eyes slightly narrowed at how easily her friend gave up on this topic. “Come on, then. I’d like to have some tea to warm myself from the cold.”

“Hold on,” Hermione said, remembering the books that were left unpaid. When she turned to the cashier, she was surprised to see that Rose’s books were already gone. 

“The gentlemen already paid for them all, Miss,” the kind, old lady told her with a lovely smile.

The brunette rolled her eyes, not missing the look of amusement that flittered on Ginny’s face.

“That sneaky bastard.” 

* * *

“You’re late." 

Luna flinched, eyes growing wide, as she swiveled around and spotted Theo lounging on a bench in the Nott gardens.

When he arrived, meaning to march towards the library just to spend the whole Friday night with Luna once more, he was surprised when Stimpy barred him from doing so.

 _“Miss Luna hasn’t arrived yet, Master Theo,”_ his loyal house-elf declared. _“Miss ordered Stimpy to tell Master Theo not to enter without her.”_

 _“This is my house,”_ he pointed out. _“I am the one who orders things.”_

But Stimpy, bless his bloody heart, had taken a shine on the eccentric Miss Luna and had stood his ground. Thus, Theo had no choice but to wait in the gardens for the blonde’s arrival. Stimpy had told him Luna always lingered for a few minutes in the Nott gardens before venturing to the library and resuming her work.

He had waited for an hour before her pretty face finally showed up. He would have appreciated her yellow dress today, if he hadn’t been grumpy from impatience and the cold.

“What are you doing outside?” Luna asked, her eyes unnaturally twinkling in the dark garden. “It is cold out here.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Theo snapped, mentally smacking himself for forgetting to charm himself warm. But he was too distracted with thoughts of Luna during his wait, wondering if something bad had happened her. He had to stop himself countless times from barging into the Muggle world just to search for her. Admittedly, he was thoroughly relieved that she was well, but he was too annoyed with her at the same time to admit that.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Luna frowned at him lightly. “There is no need for that tone, Theo,” she said disapprovingly. She then pulled out a paintbrush from her satchel and used it to put her hair into a messy bun. “But I apologize for not sending a notice. I had to work on another project before getting here.”

“I thought you’d refuse other projects until the Nott Library is finished,” he inquired with a frown of his own.

“I did,” she replied.

He expectantly looked at her, thinking she would expound more on her short answer, but when she merely stared at him with mild amusement in her eyes, he finally _understood_. “You’re done with the library,” he stated matter-of-factly, ignoring how his heart clenched at the thought he might not be seeing her anymore.

“Yes,” she simply said. Then, with a brilliant smile, she continued, “Come. I’ll show you the end product.”

His heart was heavy whilst following Luna through the corridors of Nott Manor. Throughout the short journey, she was humming a soft song under her breath. Theo sighed, heart breaking a little that his short moments with Luna Lovegood would finally end.

“I heard what happened to Rose,” she said, breaking the silence between them.

He noted the worry in her voice and quickly replied, “She’s all right now.” Blushing, he recalled that she was exchanging letters with Hermione so, naturally, she knew that, too.

“She is a brave girl,” was her mere reply, once again resuming her humming.

Staring at the back of her head, Theo expelled a soft, soundless sigh. He would undoubtedly miss seeing her every week, that was for sure.

Such was his despondence he didn’t notice they already arrived in the library. His sadness, however was momentarily forgotten once his eyes settled on the black ceiling, or Luna’s masterpiece really.

The whole ceiling looked like the velvet night outside, complete with stars that actually twinkled. He even spied a few shooting stars scattered about, and Theo couldn’t help releasing a gasp in wonder. He believed that the placement of the stars was accurate, for he could point out familiar constellations he remembered from his Astronomy classes.

“It’s… it’s _beautiful,_ ” he murmured, turning to the witch that looked very proud of herself.

“Thank you, Theo,” she said, complete with a pretty smile. “But look more closely.”

Confused, he did what he was told and craned his neck. A dark cloud suddenly drifted away, finally revealing a huge, bright moon. Theo’s eyes bulged out at how intricately it was made, complete with craters and shadows and it was just so _, so_ breathtaking.

“The night needs his own moon,” she then whispered.

Looking at her, eyes wide and bright like the moon above, Theo thought he had never seen someone as beautiful as her. Her words echoed in his mind repeatedly, heart beating too wildly inside his chest. His legs suddenly had a mind of their own as they brought him to her, closer and closer, while her eyes grew wider and brighter.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked in surprise and Theo would have normally chuckled at her unusually flustered state, but his mind was consumed of her. Of her eyes, her hair, the paint streaks on her cheeks, and her lips. She was… she was suddenly _everywhere_ and Theo couldn’t breathe.

“The night needs his own moon,” he echoed her words, gingerly placing a hand against her cheek. He thickly swallowed when she slowly closed her eyes and inched closer. He never intended this, to lose control, but this roaring fire had engulfed his heart, screaming for him to finally, _finally_ kiss the girl that had been plaguing his dreams.

“Nott, I need a fav – _oh_.”

Luna’s eyes flew open and pulled away from him, her face a lovely shade of maroon. Anger and disappointment overwhelmed his being as he glared darkly at Draco. At least his best friend had enough decency to look sheepish and apologetic.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m just going to quietly leave and -”

“No!” Luna exclaimed, breathless and flabbergasted. Theo’s traitorous eyes landed on her parted lips, producing an insatiable ache in his heart. “I-I was just about to leave a-and…” Her wide, confused eyes landed on him before she wordlessly turned around and ran away from the library.

Heavy silence settled between the two wizards once Luna disappeared.

“I fucked that up, didn’t I?”

Theo mustered the darkest glare he could and was satisfied to see Draco flinch in remorse. “Big time,” he snarled. “Big _fucking_ time.”


	22. The Portrait and the Lady

He knew it was a stupid thing to do, but his bloody heart wouldn’t listen to him. Now, Theo found himself inside the Muggle coffee shop Luna frequented. Her eyes immediately settled onto him, and he knew there was no turning back anymore.

It gave him some relief that it wasn’t only him who wasn’t sleeping properly these past few days. Luna’s eyes were unnaturally glassy with dark bags underneath. She seemed oblivious of the paint streaks on her chin, and Theo was tempted to reach out and wipe them away. But he held his hand back, afraid that she would run away from him again 

“I… well… I didn’t think you’d agree to meet me,” he awkwardly greeted, lowering himself down on the chair opposite her.

He had never seen her so restless before. Theo always believed nothing would fluster Luna Lovegood, because _she_ was always the one who made others feel that way, what with her eccentric thoughts and blunt words. And to see her like that because of _him_ … Theo had no idea what to make of it.

“I didn’t either,” she replied in a whisper, her eyes now firmly glued on the table top. “But I’m here.”

Theo swallowed, remembering how close he was to kissing her, and his heart gave another terrible ache. “Why did you run away?” he suddenly blurted out, unable to contain his curiosity anymore.

He believed he had been open enough about his intentions, and it had somehow hurt his pride when she left just like that. He had given Draco an earful for ruining his chance, threatening to blast him off from his life if things didn’t work out between him and Luna. Of course, his best friend made it up to him by treating him to the Leaky. Theo had drunken himself to oblivion, praying to the gods above that Luna would at least leave his thoughts during his inebriated state, but all he thought about and dreamt was her.

It had honestly terrified him shitless.

“I was scared.”

His eyes widened at the sincerity in her words. Her freckled cheeks were splattered with red, but her eyes held misery and Theo wanted to reach out once again, if only he could dispel that distress in her eyes.

“Why?”

Her blue eyes finally connected with his brown ones. “I don’t know,” she confessed, thickly swallowing as she tucked a stray strand behind her ear. “I…” Her hand crept to her heart and she lightly clenched it, her eyes turning terrified. “I… I’ve never felt this way before.”

Theo wanted to laugh, in relief or happiness or something else, because damn it all, he bloody felt the same.

“Me too,” he said, thickly swallowing to keep his emotions at bay. “ _Damn it_ , Lovegood, me too.”

She quirked a small, shy smile and continued, “I don’t plan on returning to the Wizarding World, Theo.”

It was scary to think how that didn’t bother him, for he was vigorously nodding his head. “I know,” he assured. “I don’t expect you to.”

“I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what I’m saying,” she expounded, but her smile had widened and was blinding. “I… I might not use magic anymore.”

Theo closed his eyes, heart thrumming with emotions he could not decipher.

A world without magic seemed daunting for him as a young Pureblood, but after the War… He was so tired, of the Wizarding World, of his family name, of… of being a _wizard_. Unbidden thoughts of a quaint house, in a Muggle neighborhood, conjured themselves in his mind. He imagined a nice hearth, with him perched on the couch, changing the channels on the telly to seek for his favorite show. And then, there was Luna, happily sitting beside him, holding tightly onto his hand, as she absentmindedly painted on her small sketchbook.

Everything felt peaceful and comforting. It was… it was _home_ and Theo was afraid he’d frighten Luna away once more if she discovered what his thoughts were all about.

Funny how the peace and quiet he had always coveted might be offered by none other than Luna Lovegood.

But Theo couldn’t completely turn his back away from the Wizarding World. His best friend was here and he had come to care for Granger and Rose, too. His bloody stepmother might have been a pain in the arse, but she still cared for him while his late father consorted with the Dark Lord.

Despite the peace and quiet the Muggle world offered, his heart still ached terribly at the thought of all the loved ones he would leave behind.

“I don’t think you can completely separate yourself from the Wizarding World,” he finally pointed out. When she questioningly looked at him, he continued, “You have friends that care about you deeply. Merlin, you exchange letters with Granger! And Rose… she’d be devastated if she couldn’t see you anymore.”

Her eyes watered, but the lovely smile on her face was unmistakable. “I… I might run away again,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

As a tear ran down from her eyes, Theo couldn’t help himself anymore. He leaned and brushed the tear away, his heart beating wildly inside his chest when he heard Luna gasp in surprise. He let his hand linger, waiting for her to pull away again. But then, she closed her eyes and leaned against his touch, and Theo knew this was the person he would like to spend his future with.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered with a charming smile. Luna opened her eyes and looked at him with so much trust and an emotion that was still too foreign for him to understand. “I can run fast enough to catch you.”

* * *

“Where are you going, Draco?” Rose suddenly asked, prompting him to flinch in surprise. He let the floo powder trickle back down on the pouch as he turned around and saw the inquisitive girl. Her mother was also behind her, mirroring the same expression on Rose’s face 

“I didn’t know you’d be back so soon,” he said, wrapping the scarf tighter around his neck.

Hermione sighed. “Ginny had to cancel,” she explained. “The Holyhead Harpies suddenly scheduled a practice for the whole day for an upcoming match.”

“Smart,” Draco said, quirking an eyebrow. “Since they’ll be fighting against the Tornados for their next match.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, absentmindedly clutching onto Rose’s hand to keep her beside herself. “You should have seen the look on Ginny’s face when she discovered her ‘adorable niece’ would root for the other team,” she said, lightly pinching Rose on her chubby cheek. Her daughter pulled away and stuck out her tongue at her mother.

“She should have known,” Draco said with a scoff. “Because Tornados are the _best_.”

“Tornados are the best!” Rose echoed. A small smirk grew on Draco’s face when Hermione merely sighed and shook her head.

“Anyway, are you going somewhere?” Hermione asked.

Draco nodded. “I’m going to visit my mother in the Malfoy Manor,” he explained. “I haven’t had the chance to drop by ever since…” His eyes flickered on the child beside Hermione, and he knew she understood the implication of his words.

“You’re going back to the Manor?” Rose asked in excitement, pulling herself away from her mother and pattering closer to Draco. “Can I come too? I miss Cissa. And Lucius!”

Hermione’s eyes had widened with her daughter’s request and that was when Draco remembered he hadn’t even told her he brought Rose to the Manor once. It didn’t help that Rose sounded quite close with his father, who had been atrocious to a Muggle-born like her when he was still alive.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been to Draco’s house?” she asked, deceptively calm, but her eyes were wild with bewilderment and panic.

“Yes, Mama!” she exclaimed, craning her neck to smile up to her mother. “It was big! Like this.” She stretched out her arms as far away from each other as possible. “And it was pretty, too. There are a lot of paintings and statues, and Draco has this funny lights hanging on the ceiling.”

Draco thickly swallowed when Hermione’s eyes settled on his once more. “Look, Granger, I can expla-”

“Mama!” Rose gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Why don’t you come with us? You can see Cissa again and meet Lucius!”

Hermione had considerably paled at her daughter’s suggestion and Draco knew it was time to step in. “Rose,” he called, drawing the girl’s attention to him. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

She pouted, obviously disappointed and confused. “Why not?” she demanded.

Draco nervously ran a hand through his hair. How could he possibly explain to this girl that her mother was once tortured in the drawing room of his own _home_? How could he possibly explain to her how her mother still had some nightmares about it, remembering all those nights they camped away for their missions?

He glanced at her covered scar, once again remembering her screams that had haunted his dreams. He couldn’t, for the life of him, allow her to step foot in a place that had scarred her forever.

“Just… just _no_ ,” he finally lamely replied, unable to come up with a plausible explanation. “Don’t be such a menace and just stay here with your mother, Rose.”

Draco scowled when Rose exhibited the telltale signs of an impending tantrum. Her eyes watered and her bottom lip quivered and Draco guessed it would be a nasty one. “If you are going to throw a fit, I swear-”

“Draco,” Hermione said, cutting him off. His grey eyes flew onto her pale face once more, but there was a determined glint in her eyes. “It’s okay. I can come with you.”

As his eyes widened in shock, all the signs of a tantrum disappeared from Rose’s face.

“Really, Mama?” she squealed in excitement.

“Granger,” he growled, brows knitting together in worry. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Please,” Hermione insisted, her tone turning pleading. “It’s all right. Rose wants to go and I…” She faltered as her breath hitched, but then she gave him a shaky smile. “I will be, alright.”

His eyes never left hers when he addressed her daughter. “Rose,” he called, “why don’t you go upstairs and prepare for this field trip.”

“Okay!” she exclaimed, then proceeded to go up the stairs two at a time.

Once she was gone, Draco darkly glared at Hermione. “This isn’t the time to be a bloody Gryffindor, Granger,” he snarled, noticing how her hand had started to quiver, too. “It’s fucking clear how you’re still terrified of my house. I can owl Longbottom and suggest a playdate with his son to distract Rose so she won’t insist to come anymore.”

He turned around and was about to seek for a spare parchment, but Hermione held onto his hand, quite tightly actually, and halted him in his steps.

“Draco, it’s okay,” she reassured with a smile, despite how her hand terribly shook while holding his. “You’re visiting your mother. The last time was…” She faltered, eyes now shining in concern. _For him_. “Maybe it isn’t wise to let you go there alone.”

Draco scowled, both at the witch for being stubborn and for his bloody heart for feeling things at the look in her eyes. “What isn’t wise is for you going back to the Manor when you’re obviously not _fucking_ ready,” he spat back, slightly regretting his tone when Hermione flinched with his words.

“Seriously?” she asked, quirking a disbelieving smile. “We are even fighting about this?”

“There is nothing to fight about,” he snarled, “because both of us know that you stepping foot in that bloody Manor is not good for you.”

Hermione blew an exasperated sigh and pulled his arm in retaliation. “Why are you being so difficult about this?” she murmured, now frowning at how his eyes flashed in annoyance.

“ _No_ , you’re the one being difficult about this.”

She wasn’t given the chance to retort when Rose came bounding down the stairs. Glaring darkly at Draco, she turned to Rose and sweetly smiled at her obviously excited daughter. “Are you looking forward to this field trip, sweetheart?” she asked, throwing a smirk at Draco when her daughter eagerly bobbed her head. “It will make you really sad if Draco doesn’t want you to go, right?”

Utter devastation crossed Rose's face as she looked at Draco. “We’re not coming with you?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering once more.

Draco darkly glared at Hermione, who wore a triumphant smirk on her face. “Ugh, _fine_ , you’re coming with me,” he said, more to Hermione than Rose. “But we can’t floo there because I haven’t lifted the wards yet to let you inside.”

Sighing, he offered each of his arm to the witches. Rose instantly latched onto him with a wide smile on her face. Hermione, however, was questioningly looking at him.

“I’ll side-along apparate you both,” he said with an exasperated eye roll. “The manor is still Unplottable. Although you’ve been there _before,_ you have no idea where it is.”

Nodding her head in understanding, Hermione finally slid her hand onto his arm. Draco ignored how pleasantly warm her hand was, still quite infuriated at the brunette for manipulating him to agree.

Then, with a resounding pop, they disappeared from Hermione’s flat.

* * *

Admittedly, the Malfoy lawn was _fantastic_. But of course, consumed with terror of returning to the house that had haunted her dreams, Hermione couldn’t really appreciate the beauty that greeted her. 

She was still rather sore at Draco for not telling her Rose had stepped foot in this house before. Of course, it was stupid for her to think that Rose would be harmed in this house. Seeing her daughter right now, playfully chasing the albino peacocks while Draco lightly scolded her, it was plain to see that Rose had _loved_ her visit here before.

_‘The War has ended,’_ she told herself, again and again. _‘The War has ended. You are safe.’_

The scar Bellatrix gave her was uncomfortably itchy all throughout their journey. It took all of her willpower not to scratch it senselessly until the discomfort disappeared. Try as she might, she had researched endlessly to seek for anything that would remove the ‘Mudblood’ scar. But the deranged Death Eater had used a cursed blade, therefore cursing Hermione to forever bear her blood status on her forearm.

With a sudden jolt, Draco had enclosed one of his warm hands around her forearm, the one that bore her scar. Wide eyed, she looked at him but Draco was still distracted with Rose, also clutching tightly onto her to keep her overly eager daughter from bounding away.

She thought that perhaps he merely absentmindedly clutched onto her. However, when his thumb started to rub comforting circles on her covered forearm, Hermione could feel her throat clogging up with emotions. Blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay, she secretly thanked Merlin that at least he was here with her.  

They finally arrived in front of the vast doors. Even before they could knock, the huge doors swung open, revealing a house-elf older than Tippy. Hermione was trying her very hardest not to smile at the cute, bright yellow tie hanging around the house-elf’s neck, seeing how serious the house-elf was.

“Hi, Morty!” Rose greeted, enthusiastically waving her hand. Hermione this time allowed herself to smile at how the house-elf’s eyes softened upon seeing her daughter.

“Master Draco,” the old house-elf greeted, bowing low until the tips of his ears touched the floor. “Little Miss Rose.” His beady eyes swept on Hermione in question, and Hermione wasn’t quite sure why she flustered under the gaze of the dignified house-elf.

“I’m Hermione.”

The house-elf looked mildly surprised, most probably recognizing her as the Golden Girl of the Wizarding World, but did not comment further. Instead, he looked back at Draco. “The Mistress Malfoy is in the East Wing Gardens, Master Draco,” he said.

“Thank you, Morty,” he replied. “Send some tea and pumpkin juice to the gardens.”

“May I have scones?” Rose asked, hopefully looking up at her mother for permission.

Hermione smiled. “If that isn’t too much of a bother,” she supplemented, ignoring how Draco made a huge show of rolling her eyes. “But thank you, Morty. You’re a good house-elf.”

Morty puffed out his chest, preening at Hermione’s compliment. With another bow, he snapped his fingers and disappeared with a pop.

“Seriously,” Draco commented, ushering them both inside. “Do you make it a point to tell all the house-elves they’re ‘good’?”

Hermione huffed at the jest in his eyes. “If I cannot free them all,” she reasoned out, “the least I can do is tell them they’re doing wonderfully in their jobs.”

“Of course they are,” he retorted. “They’re _made_ to be wonderful in their jobs."

She merely rolled her eyes, knowing arguing with him would go nowhere. Draco grinned and took her silence as a message that he won, and happily lifted Rose into his arms.

Hermione realized he still was clutching her arm, and strangely she didn’t want him to let go.

Draco finally brought them into the East Wing Gardens. Hermione couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping her mouth, eyes taking in the beautiful garden. There were at least a hundred of rose bushes around; she deduced that a rose was Narcissa’s most favorite flower. The said Lady Malfoy was lounging on one of the chairs in the garden, eyes staring nowhere.

Draco placed Rose back onto his feet and let go of Hermione’s arm. She ignored how her arm felt strangely cold and merely stared as Draco rushed towards his mother.

“Mother, it is cold,” he scolded, removing the scarf around his neck and wounding it around Narcissa’s neck. His mother didn’t take notice of him at all, or how Draco fussed on her to make her comfortable.

Hermione sadly looked at the obvious worry on Draco’s face, sympathizing with him because, after all, both of her parents still had no idea she existed.

“Cissa!” Rose called out, and it was too late for Hermione to hold onto her daughter. The child already bounded towards the mute witch, climbing onto her lap and started yammering about her day. Draco didn’t seem to notice Rose’s sudden intrusion as he continued to make his mother comfortable.

Both of them were too distracted to see Narcissa lightly blinking and looking down at her daughter, a ghost of a smile on her face. But Hermione noticed, prompting her to smile. Maybe it was really a good idea to bring Rose to meet Narcissa after all.

“Draco,” she called. The blond looked at her distractedly. “I need to use the restroom.”

He nodded his head, fluffing out a pillow and placing it against Narcissa’s back. “It’s on the left side, at the farthest door,” he said.

Hermione nodded her head and quietly left the gardens, quirking a smile when Draco scolded her daughter once more over something she didn’t hear.

As she strolled through the corridors of the vast Malfoy Manor, Hermione was starting to think that journeying alone was a bad idea. All the portraits were sneering down at her as her ‘Mudblood’ scar uncomfortably itched once more. It seemed like they all knew she was of dirty blood and didn’t deserve to be in this manor.

Quickening her pace, Hermione bowed her head and refused to look into their disgusted gazes.

_‘The farthest room,’_ she chanted mentally. _‘Focus, Hermione.’_

A brief flashback of the Second Wizarding War came into her mind and she paled. She remembered being dragged around here against her own volition, Fenrir Greyback’s atrocious breath washing over her dirtied, tearful face. Panic overwhelmed her being as she broke into a small run, wanting to return back to the lovely garden as soon as possible.

_“That sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it?”_

Hermione gasped, pure terror on her face, as images of the Bellatrix’ crazed face swam into vision.

_“Did you and your friends take it from my vault?”_

Terrified tears streamed down from her face and she swiveled around. The tears had clouded her vision as she blindly meandered through the manor without any clear direction in mind. It was only when she was staring widely at the vast door in front of her, recognizing the intricate design that had still haunted her in her sleep, when she realized her legs had unknowingly brought her to the drawing room.

Hermione shakily took a few steps back, Bellatrix’ cackle deafening her ears. “No,” she sobbed. “Please.”

She gasped, feeling a solid figure behind her back, and she whipped around, wand poised ready to hurtle a spell. But upon seeing Draco’s horror at the tears streaming down her face, she shakily let her arm fall back to her side. The relief of seeing him had overwhelmed her immensely as she threw her arms around his neck and held on tightly.

“I-I thought I had moved on,” she sputtered out, burying her wet face against his neck. “I-I thought I was okay.”

Draco wordlessly led her away from the room of her horrible nightmares. She half-expected him to bring her back to the East Wing Gardens, but was surprised to see he lead her in the huge Malfoy library. If she hadn’t been distraught with her worst memory, she would have appreciated this library that greatly rivaled the library in Hogwarts.

“I figured you didn’t want Rose to see you like that,” he explained upon feeling her questioning gaze. Sighing, he fished out his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Hermione.

“Thanks,” she whispered back, accepting it with her shaking hands. She haphazardly wiped her tears, steadily growing embarrassed at being caught in the middle of a panic attack. 

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at him questioningly once more and noticed his tensed jaw and hardened eyes. His hands were balled into fists, too, and Hermione couldn’t understand why he looked so angry.

“Why are you apologizing?” she asked.

Draco still refused to look at her when he answered. “It was stupid of me to let you roam around alone,” he said through gritted teeth. “I… I got distracted with my mother and momentarily forgot that you…” He scowled and stared her down. “I _told_ you it was a bad idea to bring you here. _Damn it_ , why are you so stubborn, Granger?”

She realized that he was angry with _himself_ more than he was angry at her. Looking past through his glare, she could see that he was terrified. _For her_.

Wordlessly, she held both of his fists, her thumb running circles at the dorsum of his hand. She waited until he had considerably calmed down before smiling weakly at him. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she murmured, cheeks coloring in shame.

It was minutes before Draco finally replied. “The drawing room…” He faltered when Hermione flinched, but she resolutely looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. “It was renovated so there isn’t any trace of…” He thickly swallowed and looked away. “I… I haven’t really apologized for that day, have I?”

Hermione blinked, slowly furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. “For what?” she asked.

“For not saving you!” Draco suddenly exclaimed. His eyes were blazing with anger and distress, a haunted look shadowing his face, recalling the events that had happened years before. “Not even when we became partners during the War… I-” His breath hitched, pure agony on his face, as he now openly stared at her. “Sometimes, when I sleep at night, I still see you on that floor.” He tightly closed his eyes and hung his head. “It was one of the reasons why I cannot live in this blasted place anymore.”

Her heart swelled as she reached out and touched his cheeks. His eyes flew open in surprise, but Hermione merely smiled at him. “ _You_ saved our lives, even back then,” she reassured, her thumb lightly brushing against his cheek. “You refused to outright sell us out.”

“I still didn’t do _anything_ ,” he harshly bit back, his eyes dangerously flashing once more.

“It is more than enough.”

His eyes widened at her words, before filling up with emotions that brought a lump into her throat. After all these years, she could see that that faithful night still tormented him, and it was more than enough for Hermione.

“You are an idiot if you think I blame you for what had happened to me,” she admonished. The way his eyes flashed, however, made her believe that he still did, and Hermione was having none of it.

“Granger…” he whispered, one of his hand creeping up to hold onto her wrist.

Her heart hummed at his hold as a small smile spread on her face. “I’m stubborn, remember?” she asked.

Draco released a huge sigh, but the corner of his lips twitched into a small smile. “Probably the most stubborn person I’ve ever known,” he shot back.

“Even more stubborn than Rose?” It had then dawned on her that Rose wasn’t with him. A soft gasp tore away from her mouth as she frantically looked around. “Where’s Rose?” she suddenly asked, paling.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “she’s with Morty.”

Hermione marginally calmed down, but felt a little uneasy at the thought of leaving her daughter alone in this horrible Manor. “We should go back,” she said, completely removing any remnants of her panic attack a while ago. Draco nodded his head in agreement and helped her onto her feet.

Whilst their travel, Hermione concentrated on the feel of Draco’s hand pressed against her lower back, if only to distract herself from the stares of the portraits. As soon as they arrived in the East Wing Gardens, they realized that Rose was nowhere to be found. And so was Narcissa.

Hermione panicked once more, a million of scenarios running through her mind. She was about to bound away, but Draco’s secure grasp on her wrist forced her to stay put.

“Wait,” he said with a scowl. “I think I know where they are.”

She allowed him to drag her throughout the corridors of the manor once more, curious as to why Draco was suddenly in a bad mood. She tried to ask him, but the look in his eyes had clamped her mouth shut. She knew she had no choice but wait.

Hermione perked up when she suddenly heard her daughter’s voice, but the smile on her face turned into that of dread when she heard the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy.

“… brought Cissa because she’s sad,” Rose chattered when both she and Draco finally arrived on the scene. Rose seemed oblivious at the sudden tension in the hallway, but Hermione could see how pale as a ghost Draco’s mother was. The painting version of Lucius’ portrait was also stunned to silence, and Hermione deduced that the couple hadn’t seen each other for such a long time.

“I really, really, really think Cissa needs a friend, Lucius,” her daughter continued, grabbing onto Narcissa’s hand and pulling her closer. “And I thought of you!”

Hermione heard Draco gasp beside her. She looked at him, surprised to see that his face was as pale as Narcissa’s. She tugged onto his hand to get his attention, prompting him to shakily look down at her. “What’s wrong?” she whispered in concern.

“Healer Matthews once said that it would be best if my mother doesn’t see father’s portrait,” he replied, slowly looking at his parents again. “H-he said… my mother reacted badly every time my father is brought up and…” A look of panic crossed his face when Narcissa moved closer to his father’s portrait.

“Okay, calm down,” she soothed. “I’ll go get Rose and you get your mother, and then we -”

Her words died down when Narcissa’s face crumpled, sobs tearing out from her mouth, as she finally reached Lucius’ portrait. Draco swore under his breath, but Hermione kept him in place.

“Draco, wait,” she whispered, watching as Narcissa shakily lifted her thin, frail hand and placed it on top of Lucius’ hand. The portrait took a sharp intake of breath and Hermione couldn’t help but gape as a tear slid down from Lucius’ painted cheek.

“My love,” Narcissa whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “How I’ve missed you.”

Hermione’s eyes welled up with tears at the raw emotion on Lucius face. She might have known him as an atrocious man, but the love in his eyes was unmistakable. Perhaps, Draco’s father had only been blinded by Voldemort’s power, but he still loved his wife deeply.

She shot a glance at Draco and saw that he was also in tears, eyes wide and round, shocked in seeing his parents interacting once more.

“Mama,” Rose suddenly whispered, tugging onto her thick sweater. Her daughter looked upset, eyes sweeping at all of the adults in the corridor. “Why are you all crying?”

Hermione chuckled despite her tears and fondly ran her hand through Rose’s curly tresses. “Oh sweetheart,” she replied. “These are all happy tears. See?” She pointed at Narcissa and Lucius, both smiling widely at each other.

“And Draco?” she asked, worriedly peering up at the silent blond beside her mother.

Draco quickly turned his head away and discreetly wiped his tears. Hermione’s heart swelled at how his cheeks darkened in embarrassment at being caught crying.

“We should… we should go back. I think we should leave them for now,” he started, and Hermione merely wordlessly nodded her head. She noticed that his eyes were still shining and red, but allowed him when he lifted Rose into his arms and strode away. Her heart almost burst through her chest when Draco bestowed the lightest of kisses on Rose’s head, prompting the little girl to giggle and hold onto his neck tighter.

_‘Yes,’_ she had thought, trailing behind the two. _‘It was a good idea to bring Rose after all.’_

* * *

“I thought no cookies past bedtime?”

Draco smirked when Hermione flinched and craned her neck, a sheepish grin on her face 

“I can’t sleep,” she confessed.

He softly laughed and sat down beside her, snagging a cookie from her plate and pointedly ignoring the glare she sent his way.

“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked, followed a huge yawn he didn’t bother to hide.

Hermione eyed him in amusement and munched onto her second cookie. “Go to sleep, Draco,” she said with a smile. “There’s no need to accompany me tonight.”

He merely shrugged and pulled out his wand. Then, with a wave, he summoned a glass and the carton of milk to pour himself some. “I can hear you munching loudly from the living room, so I got hungry,” he teased, smirking at the affront on her face.

“I don’t munch loudly!”

“Mmhmm, okay,” he muttered, his smirk widening when she scoffed.

Silence settled between the two, save from their _quiet_ munching and clinking of glasses.

“How was your mother?” she slowly asked, carefully looking into his eyes for some reaction.

Draco blushed, remembering how he broke down in front of her, _again_ , because of what had transpired in the Malfoy Manor this morning. His emotions had just overwhelmed him so much, seeing his parents like that. His father might had been cold to him when he was alive, but he knew that he still loved them both very much. Draco could not truly hate him.

When Hermione was still looking at him expectantly, he realized he hadn’t answer her earlier question. “Surprisingly,” he started, “she is well. Healer Matthews dropped by when we left to check on my mother and told me that it might actually be good for my mother’s health if she kept on conversing with my father’s portrait.”

She smiled and nodded her head. “That’s good to hear,” she replied.

Glancing beside her, Draco tried to observe the brunette. She was surprisingly _well_ too, considering she was terrified when he found her standing in front of the drawing room. Thickly swallowing, his eyes landed on his glass of milk instead, trying to drown her screams that had haunted him for years.

“Are you… are you okay?” he whispered, refusing to look at her, afraid of what he’d see in her eyes. He still wanted to blame her for insisting that they should come with him earlier, but after how everything concluded, Draco did not have the heart to berate her further for being a stubborn witch.

“I am.”

He frowned, finally lifting his eyes to connect with hers again. To his surprise, she was smiling at him. The panic and fear that had mingled in her gaze a while ago were completely gone. Eyes widening, he realized that she meant _it_.

“Maybe… _well_.” She paused, a soft chuckle escaped from her lips. His eyes followed her fingers as they tucked an aberrant curl behind her ear. “I don’t think it is a good idea to return to your manor soon, though.”

“That is _wise_ , yes,” he said, nodding his head and smirking, remembering their conversation earlier.

Both finally finished their cookies and stood up from their stools. Hermione magicked the plate and glasses clean before turning back to him, a shy smile on her face.

“Well, good night, Draco.”

He had a suddenly crazy thought of inviting her over to sleep with him on the couch – _his_ couch. But he bit his tongue, still not quite sure if showing his feelings to her would be the wisest decision right now. Instead, he settled on reaching out and tucking the same stray curl that had bothered her earlier behind her ear.

Draco swallowed down his nerves when Hermione prettily blushed up at him. He had let his fingers linger a little too long, before completely pulling them back to his side.

“Good night, Hermione,” he whispered in reply.

Her eyes lit up when he used her first name, and Draco silently swore he would start using it more often, if only it could make her very happy.

“I should… I should sleep now,” he murmured, his traitorous eyes landing briefly on her tantalizing lips.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly, her eyes also magnetizing down onto his lips.

Her eyes were slowly closing and _bloody hell_ , she was so near, so close, and Draco could hear his heart beating wildly.

Her lips brushed lightly against him, but Draco swore he saw stars behind his eyes.

“Good night, Draco,” she sighed once more, her lips barely brushing against his.

Before he could snap off his stupor, she was already back in her bedroom.


	23. The Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I wasn't able to update yesterday. We were busy celebrating New Year's Eve. 
> 
> Happy New Year, dear readers! I hope 2019 will be kinder to us all lol

“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny lamented as she plopped down on the chair beside the older witch. “I just had the _craziest_ week. I mean, I get that we have to win and all, but what I don’t understand is why we have to train so hard for our upcoming match against the Chudley Cannons. The _Chudleys_ , Hermione. Their Seeker cannot keep himself on his broom for more than two hours, honestly!”

Hermione hummed with a smile, indulging the redhead by pretending she was actually listen to all of her Quidditch woes. It just made her happy that Ginny was actually here, in her home, like they had never even ignored each other for three years.

“… _Hermione_ ,” Ginny pointed out in exasperation. “You’re not even listening to me.”

She sheepishly grinned, prompting the redhead Quidditch player to sigh in disbelief.

“Serves you right for thinking Hermione will even listen to you yammer about Quidditch, Weasley.”

Hermione blushed, resolutely refusing to look at Draco, who was casually lounging on one of the chairs in her kitchen. Her mind conjured the memory of her kissing him – _well_ , it was more of a peck, really – but _gods_ , did he really have to start calling her by her first name? Their moment had already been a few days ago, but Draco hadn’t brought it up even once. He still acted around her like he normally did, but sometimes, she would catch him looking at her, and she would _wonder_.

“Why are you even here, Malfoy?” Ginny asked, mildly annoyed, but thankfully there wasn’t any animosity in her eyes anymore. “Don’t you have some work to do in the ministry?”

Hermione’s eyes widened, realizing this also. Today was a Wednesday, after all, and it was her day-off. Draco, on the other hand, was expected to be sitting behind his desk in the DIMC.

Unwittingly, her questioning gaze finally landed on him, and found out he was looking at her already.

“I resigned,” he told her, eliciting a gasp from the brunette.

“W-what? Really?”

“Yes,” he said, a slow smirk growing on his face. “You were right. My talents are wasted in the DIMC. Oh, and McLaggen’s a prick. He made a fit when I resigned, yapping about how ungrateful I was for throwing such a wonderful opportunity away for an ex-Death Eater like me. Bloody hell, he didn’t even like me one bit. I don't get why he's angry really.”

A small smile bloomed on her face, imagining a very beardy Henrik McLaggen, turning red with anger. “So… does this mean you’ll apply to the DMLE then?” she asked.

To her disappointment, he merely shrugged his shoulders. There was something in his eyes, though, that made her think that Draco was still in the process of deciding.

“Draco!” Rose suddenly exclaimed, running into the kitchen. “Oh, hello Aunt Ginny!” She pattered closer to the older redhead and gave her a big hug. Ginny cooed and pinched her niece’s cheeks, eliciting infectious giggles from the little girl.

Once Ginny released her, Rose bounded towards Draco and tried her very best to pull him onto his feet. “Dracooo,” she whined when the wizard still wouldn’t budge. “SpongeBob is starting! Come on!”

Mild irritation flitted through Draco’s face, but he finally relented and allowed the redhead to pull him into the living room.

Hermione was chuckling under her breath once Draco and her daughter were gone. “I don’t get why he’s always putting up a fight,” she said. “Draco secretly likes watching Rose’s cartoon, really.”

Instead of smiling with her, Ginny gave Hermione a strange look. The chuckles died down from Hermione’s lips and frowned in discomfort.

“What?”

“Okay, Hermione, let’s cut the crap,” the younger witch said, pulling her chair closer to hers. “What is really going on here?”

Her frown deepened, confused. “What do you mean?”

Ginny released a huge sigh and inched her face closer. Hermione blinked at her in surprise and smiled, reminiscing about the days when Ginny would sneak into the higher year dormitories to have some late heart-to-heart talks with her.

“Between you and Malfoy!” she exclaimed matter-of-factly. “Or should I say _Draco_?”

The memory of his soft lips resurfaced in her mind once more and Hermione deeply blushed. “W-what do you mean?” she repeated, refusing to meet Ginny’s eyes in fear of cracking.

But the Weasley was having none of it. “Hermione, we haven’t seen each other for ages, but even I can see that _something_ is definitely going on between you two,” she pointed out.

Her mouth ran dry, her eyes drilling holes on the kitchen top. “Nothing’s going on, Ginny,” she mumbled miserably, once again wondering why they hadn’t talked about that fateful night. Maybe she was reading in too much of his actions, and maybe she was just stupid for doing so. “Well, maybe there was that one time we kissed” – “WHAT?!” – “But we’re just _friends_.”

Ginny grabbed both of her shoulders and turned her around so that she could directly looking into her eyes. Hermione felt queasy under her scrutinizing gaze and when a look of understanding shined in her blue eyes, the older witch knew that she was already caught. “Obviously, there’s _something_ for you,” she said with a brilliant grin.

Hermione weakly smiled in return, not trusting herself to speak when her heart was threatening to burst through her chest.

“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny gushed back. “Open your eyes. There’s something for Malfoy, too.”

She once again remembered that fateful night, when he couldn’t stop looking at her lips. But Hermione had crushed that bubbling hope before it could fester just to save herself from any heartbreak that might occur. She couldn’t afford to wallow in her feelings, now that she had a daughter to take care of and a vile Death Eater to imprison.

“I don’t know, Ginny,” she whispered in reply, sadly frowning at the floor.

“Hermione,” the younger witch firmly said. Once her eyes settled back into her blue ones, she continued, “I… admit that it makes me uncomfortable. I mean, _Merlin_ , you were married to my brother! But I promise you, I have nothing against you finding a new love.”

Hermione turned into a brilliant shade of red. “Love seems like a big overstatement, don’t you think?” she inquired, followed by a nervous chuckle. Her traitorous mind whispered, however, that she was _dangerously_ teetering between like and love. _‘Shut up, brain,’_ she mentally thought.

Ginny merely gave her a knowing look. “I think you know that Rose needs a father, too,” she continued. “I’m not saying you as a single parent is a bad thing. Hermione, you’re brilliant for raising a sweet, kind girl alone. But Rose terribly misses Ron, and I know nobody can replace him, but maybe a new, constant male figure in her life wouldn’t be so bad now, would it?”

“There’s Harry,” she protested, but Ginny merely rolled her eyes.

“Tough luck, love, but I plan on keeping him for myself and our future children,” she replied, making her smile at the sincerity behind her words. “Of course I plan to share Harry, but… ugh, you _know_ what I mean. And as much as it pains for me to admit it, Draco  _freaking_ Malfoy is actually good to Rose.”

Hermione couldn’t help but to silently concur with her words. After watching Draco and her daughter interact in the past few months, she hadn’t seen her daughter quite happy ever since her father died. Draco was bloody brilliant with Rose and she wanted him to continue being a constant presence in her daughter’s life.

“I don’t know, Gin…”

“Gods, Hermione, you should see how he looks at you!” Ginny was practically shaking her to understand. “Rose might be a bright star in his eyes, but _Merlin Almighty_ , you are like the warm sun after his bleakest day.”

Her cheeks splattered red with her comparison, refusing to believe that someone as wonderful as him could see her like that.

“He is good with you too,” Ginny said with a sigh. “I couldn’t help but compare him with Ron – I’m sorry, brother, may you rest in peace. But Hermione… you’re _happier_ with him. It’s kind of lovely and sad at the same time, you know. I still wish Ron was able to give you that.”

Her face crumpled in guilt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, not exactly sure what she was apologizing for. But, it felt like the right thing to do.

Ginny was looking at her like she was an idiot. “For being happy with him?” she demanded in exasperation. “Hermione, I love you so much and I want you to be happy. Merlin, how can you apologize for something like that?!”

She chuckled and shyly tucked a strand behind her ear. “Am I really that obvious?” she finally asked with a sheepish grin.

“Truthfully?” Hermione hesitantly nodded her head. “Hell yes.”

She released a tremendous sigh and shook her head. “A lot of things are still on my mind, Ginny,” she said. “Maybe after Lestrange’s case has finally ended…”

“I want you to be happy, Hermione,” Ginny reminded.

“I know, I know,” she said. “I just… maybe this is the closure I needed to finally start anew.”

Ginny frowned, clearly not agreeing with Hermione, but finally muttered a petulant, “Fine.” Hermione smiled, heart warming and still in disbelief that Ginny was actually here when a month ago she didn’t want anything to do with her.

“Oh, and Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“Malfoy has the nicest bum I’ve ever seen. Sorry Harry, my love.”

“Ginny! You can’t talk about someone like that,” she exclaimed, aghast. Her cheeks grew warmer when Ginny pointedly look at her. “Well…”

“Admit it, you buffoon,” Ginny laughed, pinching her at her side. Hermione yelped in shock, and laughingly swatted her hand away.

“Merlin, yes, all right!” Hermione finally admitted, unable to fight off her growing smile. “Nicest bum I’ve ever seen in my whole bloody life.”

* * *

It was Christmas and Rose thought it would be brilliant to celebrate it in Draco’s huge flat together with the people they loved. Hermione at first offered to celebrate it in her own flat, afraid that they would be intruding too much, but he pointed out that Rose planned to invite a lot of people. Her flat wouldn’t be able to hold them all.

Somehow, Draco was steadily regretting to offer his flat for the party. It was too rowdy and he honestly just wanted to spend his Christmas with Hermione and Rose. But both the child and his personal house-elf were brimming with happiness at the number of people in his house, so he bit back any complaint.

Eyes roaming around, he could see Rose at the corner playing with Sir Ginger and Tippy. Said house-elf was happily trashing about, perhaps playing as a make-believe monster, while Sir Ginger, aided by her owner, roared and pretended to breathe fire to destroy the monster.

Theo and Luna were seated on a loveseat, already lost in their own world and making googly eyes at each other. Draco was pleasantly surprised that things had actually worked between them, despite his crappy timing a few days ago. When he asked if they were official, Theo merely sheepishly smiled at him and shrugged.

Then, his eyes settled on the trio lounging on the couch, laughing over something Potter had said. His girlfriend’s eyes were sparking too brightly, but he immediately got distracted at how Granger’s pink lips were parted and inviting.

It had been days ever since that stupid kiss – _‘More like a_ peck.’ – and things had been the same between them. Draco had no idea how to act around her the next day, deciding to be his usual self in fear of doing something that would ruin whatever was happening between them. Still, nothing had happened and it brought him up to his wits end.

Seeing that Hermione started the kiss, it bloody well meant that she was at least interested in him. He still regretted not following her that night, bursting through her bedroom door and declaring the small, insignificant fact that he had been in love with her since their Hogwarts years.

Now, it had been driving mad how they were still friends when all he could think about was her bloody lips pressed against his bloody lips. At night, his mind tended to wander more, but he tried to rein in his thoughts, knowing that if he let his imagination run wild, he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes without breaking.

He watched as Rose approached her mother and asked if she could open presents now. Briefly, Hermione’s eyes landed on him, but she immediately looked away. Her cheeks, however, were a lovely shade of red and Draco’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch.

Hermione then requested everybody to gather around the Christmas tree to start opening gifts. Draco eyed the huge tree which Potter and Weasley brought, now decorated with red and green trinkets and baubles.

“It’s terribly too Gryffindor and Slytherin, eh?” Luna had commented, and insisted that the star they put on top would be colored blue, just to represent her beloved house. Draco thought she was being ridiculous. Theo thought she was adorable.

Rose was beside herself with joy while tearing away her gift wrappers. Her poor mother, known to meticulously open her gifts, almost had a heart attack at the way her daughter was opening her gifts. But the child was undoubtedly happy, and Draco was amused how Hermione controlled herself.

He was surprised he got gifts from both Potter and Weaslette, though he did buy them gifts too just for civility’s sake. Rose gave him a cute drawing of her, him, and Hermione, all looking like a cute little family that made his heart shoot up into his throat. Theo gave him a new Quidditch kit for his broom. Luna gave him a round object made of yarns, saying that it is good for catching dreams – whatever the hell that means. And finally, Hermione gave him a new lovely set of quills, and a moving picture enclosed on a picture frame of her, him, and Rose.

Peering closely at the picture, he could see it was of them eating ice creams in Florean’s. Draco had no recollection of even being pictured during that day, and deduced that it was Florean’s himself who captured this moment. He once again thought they looked like a little family, his heart humming wildly inside his ribcage, and he couldn’t help the growing smile on his face.

He caught Hermione’s eyes, who was carefully watching him for his reaction. But then, when she saw the expression on his face, she mirrored his smile and Draco thought his heart could only take as much.

Everybody moved to Draco’s vast garden, wanting to see Rose test her new toy broomstick, courtesy of her Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. It was obviously her most favorite present out of everything she received, and was brimming with excitement when she declared to everybody she wanted to test it. While everybody was busy watching Rose play with her new toy broom, Draco silently approached Hermione, meaning to give her gift soon.

“You know, they’re toy brooms for a reason,” he whispered with a smirk, eyeing Hermione’s hands that were tightly gripping the eccentric, yellow scarf Luna had gifted to her.

She gave him a sideway glance, a frown now forming on her face. “It still looks dangerous _,_ ” she pointed out. “What if… what if she fell and got hurt?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “They’re only manufactured to hover for at most three feet,” he explained. “That’s as tall as Tippy, and you know how terribly small my house-elf is. If she did fall, all she’s going to get is a knee scrape or two.”

He apparently wasn’t being helpful because Hermione considerably paled more and darkly glared at him.

“I was already on a toy broomstick when I was three,” he hastily added, thinking she’d breakdown soon. “ _Relax_. Besides, she’s being monitored by Potter and Ginny, who is, by the way, a _professional_ Quidditch player. Your daughter is in good hands.”

She still looked pale and worried, but thankfully had loosen her grip on Luna’s poor gift.

“Anyway, Gr – Hermione,” he said. She eyed him in amusement at his almost slip, prompting him to blush. He still had to constantly remind himself to start calling this witch by her first name. “I… well… I have something to show you.”

“Now?”

He sighed. “Yes, now,” he said, gesturing back into his house.

“Why?” she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He rolled his eyes, but answered her nonetheless, “Well, if you haven’t noticed, I still have not given you my gift.”

Hermione blinked in surprise, then a slow blush spread all over her face. “Oh,” she murmured, nervously tucking a curl behind her ear.

“Yes,” he hummed, now turning around so that she wouldn’t see how nervous he was too. “It is… _personal_ and I don’t want everybody to see it.”

A tensed silence settled between them until they finally arrived back inside the house. Draco instructed her to wait on the couch while we ran up to his room and retrieve her gift.

Hermione was a bundle of nerves when he finally went down. Draco watched in amusement as she constantly fidgeted with her hand, her eyes darting nervously upstairs. When he caught her eyes, she glowered at his smirk, but her cheeks reddened more at being caught.

“Here,” he then said, offering her a vial. “Merry Christmas, Hermione.”

She eyed the potion with curiosity, then gazed back at him, waiting for an explanation.

Sighing, Draco grasped her forearm to reveal her ‘Mudblood’ scar. Hermione gasped in surprise, but Draco tightly gripped on it.

He somehow was unable to look into her eyes, memories of that night once again consuming his thoughts. Hermione’s screams and his aunt’s cackles rang wildly in his ears, and Draco had to thickly swallow, constantly remind himself that the War was over, Hermione was all right, and his fucking aunt is dead.

“Draco?”

Draco blinked, realizing he had just been staring oddly at her scar, before clearing his throat. “Bellatrix used a cursed blade to give you this scar,” he murmured, lightly brushing a finger at her scar that never faded.

“I figured,” Hermione said, slowly nodding her head. “I tried my best to search for anything that can remove it, but it was all futile.”

He smiled at how obviously disgruntled she was, bothered that her books didn’t have any answer to her predicament.

“Well,” Draco slowly started, “it is a family heirloom so I knew somewhere in the Malfoy library, I may find a solution.”

Her eyes widened as realization dawned, now eyeing the potion with shock.

“It took a while,” he said, lowering himself down beside her on the couch but still keeping his hold on her arm. “I… well… I actually forgot about it. But after our visit in the Malfoy Manor…” He let his words falter as his eyes sought Hermione’s. His eyes widened, surprised that they were already brimming with tears.

Smiling, he let his hand brush away her tears. “Try it,” he said, offering her the potion vial once more. “You may be the brightest witch in our year, but I’m still the best in Potions.”

“You wish,” she said, smiling through her tears. Her shaky hands already grasped the glass vial, reverently removing its lid, and peering at its contents. Draco had made it into an ointment, so that Hermione could topically rub it all over her scar.

He watched as she poured the liquid into her hand before daintily rubbing it throughout her scar.

Her tears increased as it disappeared before her eyes. Draco released a huge sigh of relief, secretly afraid that he had found the wrong potion and had merely gotten her hopes up, just to be crushed by disappointment. But to see her scar, slowly disappearing before his eyes, he had silently thanked the Malfoy library for being vast and informative.

“T-thank you,” she said, as it completely disappeared. Her eyes were shining with gratitude and a lot of emotions he could not decipher. He wasn’t ready when she suddenly threw her arms around him for a tight hug. “This is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received.”

He softly smiled and patted her on the back for comfort.

“Hermione, I – _oh_.”

Said brunette immediately pulled away and wiped her tears. Potter was ogling at them strangely, before noticing the tears in her eyes.

“Are you all right?” The-Boy-Who-Lived asked, striding quickly towards her side. He threw an accusatory glare towards Draco, who rolled his eyes in return. “What the hell did you do, Malfoy?”

“Harry,” Hermione softly admonished. “Draco didn’t do anything.”

Her best friend looked at her in confusion. “Then why are you crying?”

She mustered the brightest smile she could and showed her bare forearm to Potter. He looked at her arm in confusion, eyes roaming all over in search for anything that would give him a clue. But then, when he realized what _wasn’t_ there, his green eyes enlarged into saucers. “ _Oh_ ,” he muttered, breathless. A huge smile followed his claim, before gathering Hermione into his arms.

More tears streamed down from her eyes, but she was laughing too. Draco felt a little awkward, thinking he was invading their private moment, but Harry immediately pulled away.

“As much as I’d like to savor this moment, I actually came inside because I need your help,” Harry said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… your daughter doesn’t want to come down from her toy broomstick and I was hoping you’d put your parent mode on and do it for us?”

Despite her tears, Hermione managed to terrifyingly roll her eyes. “I’m still cross with you and Ginny for giving her that gift,” she admonished.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Harry said. “But you’ll still love us no matter what happens.”

Hermione shook her head but was unable to conceal a smile. “Let me just freshen up,” she said, pointing at her puffy face.

When she stood up and sauntered to her restroom, an awkward silence settled between the two wizards. Draco was perfectly happy with that arrangement, but apparently Potter had thought otherwise.

“How long?”

He looked at him curiously, surprised at the seriousness in Potter’s eyes. Draco’s eyebrows knitted together, not quite understanding what he had meant. “What? Making that ointment? Well, it took me -”

“You know what the bloody hell I mean, Malfoy.”

Draco blinked, caught off guard by the tone of his voice. As he searched Potter’s eyes, Draco felt his cheeks warming up when he finally understood the context of his question.

“Third year,” he whispered, lowering his eyes in embarrassment. “I… well… I _did_ notice her, _a lot_ , before that. But when she punched me, on my nose, that was when I finally understood. I was in constant denial because of obvious reasons, of course. During the war, though… it just became all clear to me.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “That long?” he gasped.

He weakly shrugged, not really knowing what to reply.

A disbelieving chuckle escaped from Harry’s mouth. “Damn it, Malfoy. Even earlier than _Ron_ ,” he pointed out.

Draco scowled. “You and I both know the Weasel is bloody daft.”  

Harry grinned, completely concurring. “Still?” he asked.

Did his heart still hammer every time she was near? Did his skin still tingle every time their fingers accidentally brush? Did he still dream of her most of the time? Did he still imagine his future with her, in a quaint house, with children to love and maybe a pet or two?

Did he still love her, after all these years?

He was unable to answer because Hermione suddenly came back. But, one look at Potter’s eyes knew that he _understood_.

“What are you two talking about?” Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Draco quickly said, hiding his flaming cheeks away.

Her bottom lip protruded, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

“Hermione,” Harry said, catching her hand to get her attention. “You have a daughter to control.”

“Oh, yes, right,” Hermione said, chuckling as she crossed the threshold and into the gardens. Harry was about to follow her, but then stopped himself, and looked at him once more.

“Malfoy.”

Draco blinked and questioningly looked at Potter, who had a disbelieving smile on his face. He was actually dumbfounded at the expression on his face, but Harry was already shaking his head.

“What the bloody hell are you waiting for, then?”

Harry didn’t wait for his answer for he too followed his best friend.

* * *

“What are you doing here?”

Luna flinched and swiveled around. Theo was looking at her with amusement, but then the blonde witch serenely smiled and looked out of the window once more.

Theo sauntered closer and peered outside, searching for anything that had caught her eye.

The Christmas Party in Draco’s flat had extended until in the evening. He could still hear Rose’s raucous laughter over a silly cartoon she was watching. Theo smiled, hearing Draco’s unmistakable grumbling about the mindless cartoon, and Hermione’s lovely chuckles in reply. Harry and Ginny already left for the night, probably to give each other their own Christmas _gifts_.

He had searched for Luna then, wondering if she wanted to go back home, and finally found her standing in front of one of the vast windows in Draco’s home.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she finally answered, voice barely above a whisper. He glanced down beside her and saw her smiling at the night sky. He followed her gaze and let himself take in the beauty of the night, complete with its twinkling stars and the bright moon. The snow had finally ceased and the clouds were nowhere to be found.

_“The night needs his own moon.”_

Grinning widely, his mind brought him back to that night and how their kiss was interrupted by his bloody best friend. After their conversation in the Muggle café, they had somehow started seeing each other more often. He was still unsure what they really were, thus having no answer when Draco asked them if they were official.

Theo wanted to tread lightly, though, afraid that he’d scare her off once more. He was perfectly contented of how things started to unfold between them. For now, he was just happy that she was still allowing him to see her almost every day.

“I thought about what you said last time,” Luna started, breaking the peaceful silence that settled between them.

He knitted his eyebrows, trying to recall the last conversation they had shared. “About how Slytherin is still the best house in Hogwarts?” he hopefully added, remembering how they had a mini-debate during Rose’s adventures with her new toy broomstick.

Luna softly laughed. Theo grinned; she did have a lovely laugh. “No, silly,” she said, fully looking at him. “Though Ravenclaw is still hands down the best house. What I meant, though, was the last time in that Muggle coffee shop.”

“Oh,” Theo said, now frowning. “What about it?”

“When you said we cannot completely separate ourselves from the Wizarding World, I thought about it extensively.” She was once again gazing up at the night sky, but there was a certain melancholy in her demeanor now. “And… you were right, Theo,” she said, followed by a long, sad sigh. “For five years, I hid myself in the Muggle world because returning to the Wizarding World after the War was just… painful for me.”

Her eyes shone with unshed tears when she looked back at him.

“Luna,” Theo said, frowning at how distressed she looked. “We don’t have to talk about that now.”

“No, no, I think now is the right time,” she said, absentmindedly brushing away a wayward tear.

Theo sighed and brushed away another tear. “If you wish it,” he murmured, worried.  

“I do,” she said, nodding her head. “It’s just… isn’t it wonderful when you finally found someone that understands you completely?”

She reached out and placed a hand against his cheek. Theo stiffened under her touch; it was usually him who initiate any affectionate gestures towards her and not the other way around. “I think my father sent you to me,” she continued. “Did I ever tell you that?”

His eyes widened in surprise, prompting her to grin widely in return.

“I take it that I haven’t,” she said, gingerly brushing her thumb across his cheek. Theo shivered, his eyes falling shut. She had no idea how much her small ministrations made him feel inside. “Silly me. People always told me I’m terribly a scatterbrain.”

Theo merely smiled and waited for her to continue.

“The night of our blind date,” she then continued, “I was a hundred percent sure I wouldn’t come at all.”

His eyes flew open in utmost shock. “W-What?” he thundered, balking at the thought that he might not have met her at all.

“Yes,” she added. “But… I had a dream then.” She looked out at the window once more and smiled. “About a beautiful night with twinkling stars and a bright, full moon. When I woke up, I had a feeling I should still go. Imagine my surprise when that night, my dream was exactly like the night sky and I thought it was a sign that something magnificent was about to happen to me.” Her smile widened as she reached out for his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I don’t believe in dreams,” Theo whispered in reply.

“Oh, but you should,” Luna said, turning to look at him once more. “My father used to tell me that dreams are often most profound when they seem most crazy. They may _mean_ something, Theo.”

He sighed and shook his head, a small smile on his face. “You are super odd, Lovegood,” he pointed out fondly.

“All the best people are,” she replied with her own wonderful smile.

He laughed and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said, “but I think we kind of lost track of what we were originally talking about.”

“No, we didn’t,” she replied. “We just have a lot of things to say to each other.” Theo grinned and wondered how he was irritated of this girl all of his years in Hogwarts. “But what I was trying to say a while ago was, I think I am not ready to let go of magic yet, Theo.”

“Really?” he asked, plain surprise on his face.

She nodded and squeezed his hand once more. “When I thought about leaving everybody I care behind to run away and hide, I felt… _sad_.” She frowned and leant her forehead against the windowpane. “I don’t think my father will be very happy that I’m going to give up being a witch, wherever he is right now.”

“Will you return to the Wizarding World then?”

“Perhaps,” she responded with a mysterious smile. “Perhaps not. We will see. There is no need to rush on these things.”

Theo smiled and nodded. “You’re right,” he replied. “We can just, I don’t know, go with the flow.”

He then realized that he had lost her attention when Luna didn’t reply to his words. Frowning, he saw that she was distracted about something at the ceiling, since her eyes were intensely directed above.

“There’s a mistletoe, Theo.” 

His eyes widened and followed her gaze. True to her words, an innocent mistletoe hung over them. He figured it might have been Tippy’s doing, knowing how Draco’s personal house-elf always seemed to love decorating and sticking to tradition.

“Well, you know what they say about mistletoes,” he commented smoothly. Deep inside, his heart was thumping loudly in anticipation. He still hadn’t kissed her lips ever since the Nott library fiasco, and a constant ache had settled in his chest since then. Perhaps, today was his chance, but he still didn’t want to ask her to do things she wasn’t ready to do yet.

“Yes,” she softly replied. “Nasty nargles tend to hide themselves in mistletoes. Shame, I forgot to wear my butterbeer cork necklace today to keep them away.”

He guffawed, caught off guard, quite forgetting that he was still talking to Luna Lovegood after all. “No, _silly_ ,” he said, echoing her words with a wide smile. “You have to give a ki-”

But his words were silenced when Luna suddenly tiptoed and gave him a soft peck on his lips. Theo’s eyes had widened in shock, and Luna was shyly smiling at him, complete with a lovely blush on her cheeks.

“I know that, too,” she replied in a timid whisper.

He took a sharp intake of breath and slowly lifted his hand to place it against her warm cheek. Luna’s eyes widened and Theo swallowed, thinking he had never seen someone as beautiful as her in his whole life. Heart in throat, mind a jumbled mess, he slowly leant down. His mouth ran dry when her eyes slowly fluttered close.

“Are you going to run away again?” he asked, his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers.

She smiled, eyes still closed. “No, Theo,” she whispered almost breathlessly. “Not anymore.”

He grinned and finally closed the gap between the two of them.

 


	24. The Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suffice to say, I love this chapter very, very much.

“Relax, Granger. Everything’s going to be all right.”

She threw Draco a withering glare as she brushed off another invisible lint off her crisp business robe. Hermione ignored how her daughter giggled over something Draco whispered at her, as both of them were now looking at her with amusement in their eyes.

Instead, she checked herself on her full length mirror once more and glared at the stubborn curl on her forehead. Brandishing out her wand, she summoned a hair tie from her drawer and gathered her voluminous curls to keep them into a ponytail.

Hermione couldn’t afford to look nowhere near impeccable today. It was Rodolphus Lestrange’s trial and she would do whatever she could to finally put that bastard behind bars. Although his list of offense was abundant, Hermione still felt uneasy at how things were going to end today. It didn’t help that this man both killed her husband and kidnapped her daughter; it would take all of her willpower to rein in her emotions and not make a fool out of herself in front of the Wizengamot.

“Rosie,” she heard Draco say, “why don’t you prepare for our Diagon Alley trip later?” 

She saw her daughter look at her worriedly through the mirror and it somehow marginally made her calm down. “Do what Draco says, love,” Hermione said, craning her neck to give her at least a reassuring smile. “We’ll be going soon.” 

“Okay, Mama.” Rose then ran back to her room to start gathering her things. 

Once she was gone, Hermione belatedly regretted her decision and letting Rose leave. Now, she realized that she was _alone_ with Draco Malfoy in her _bedroom_. It didn’t help her nerves one bit. 

“Why are you so nervous about today?” he asked, sidling up beside her in front of the mirror. Hermione secretly marveled (and envied) how not a single strand of hair was out of place on his head. It wasn’t really fair, she thought, tugging petulantly at an aberrant curl that escaped from her hair tie. 

“I don’t know,” she scowled when he lifted an eyebrow, obviously catching her staring at him for a little too long. “I’ve just wanted this day to arrive so much and I’m afraid that something’s going to happen.” 

“ _Nothing’s_ going to happen,” he retorted with an eye roll. “Blimey, Granger, have you forgotten this is Rodolphus Lestrange we are talking about? His track record would undoubtedly send him straight to hell if skipping Azkaban was an option.” 

Despite her nerves, she cracked a smile at his attempt to lighten her mood with his humor. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to finally stare Lestrange in the eye, knowing that he had nowhere else to go but in Azkaban for all the things he had done to my family and the Wizarding World,” she said, disgust and vehemence in her voice at the Death Eater that made her life miserable for the past few years. 

“That’s the spirit,” Draco replied with a wide grin on his face. “Channel that energy in your testimony later. I think the Wizengamot won’t fault you if you’ve said a bad word or two. Don’t worry, Rose won’t be there after all. It won’t break her poor heart when she discovered that the mother she loved and respected is able to utter such despicable words to other people.” 

Her smile morphed into a wide, disbelieving grin. “Thank you, Draco,” she said in jest. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Also…” He reached out and removed her hair tie. She squeaked in protest, but the noise died down from her lips when Draco gingerly ran a hand through her hair and successfully tucked the annoying curl behind her ear. His eyes were glinting with an emotion that caught her breath. “Wear your hair down. It makes you look like a ferocious lioness. Show Lestrange that he shouldn’t have messed with Hermione Granger in the first place.”                                                             

Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, still very much aware at his fingers that were almost touching her cheek. Her eyes met his mercurial ones and all her worry for today’s trial were suddenly thrown out the window. All that she could think about was how stupidly handsome he was and how she really, truly, _undoubtedly_ wanted to kiss him again. 

“Are you okay now, Granger?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as a slow, handsome smirk grew on his face. 

Hermione scowled, cheeks still inflamed. He knew how his small gestures were making her feel, that git. However, she wouldn’t be mad if he chose that opportunity to give her a kiss, really. 

“I’m ready!” Rose exclaimed, announcing her return. 

She bit her bottom lip, concealing her disappointment at their ruined moment once more, and turned to her daughter instead. Rose was carrying her cute backpack and had her hair tied into messy pigtails, prompting Hermione to chuckle and crouch down. 

“Your hair’s a disaster, sweetheart,” she said, shaking her head in amusement. “Come here. Mama will fix it.” 

Rose obliged and ran towards her mother. “Mama, are you okay?” she then asked while Hermione went on and fixed her pigtails. “You don’t look good.” 

Her heart swelled at her daughter’s concern. “Yes, darling, I’m okay,” she replied. “Now, go and have fun in Diagon Alley with Draco, okay? As soon as my work is done, I’ll meet you both and we can eat ice cream in Florean’s.” 

“Yay, okay!” Rose exclaimed, giving her mother a big hug. “I love you, Mama. See you later.” 

“I love you too, Rosie,” she said, bending down to drop a kiss on the crown of her red head. Then, to Draco, she added, “I best be going now. I still have to meet with Harry to discuss some matters before the start of the trial.” 

Draco smiled and nodded his head. “Good luck, Hermione,” he bid in farewell, before ushering Rose out of her mother’s bedroom. 

Hermione gave her reflection another full-minute glance. Satisfied, she took a deep breath, pulled out her wand, and disapparated.

* * *

“Isn’t it weird?” Theo asked, turning to look on Draco. “How four months ago, you were freaking out over taking care of Mini Granger?” He then gestured at Rose, who stopped perusing over a display of the magnificent Lightning 2005, the latest brand of broomsticks in the Wizarding World, to give a few, eager waves at him and Draco. 

“It’s already been four months?” Draco asked, eyes bulging out in surprise. It felt like it wasn’t too long ago during that stormy, Sunday night when Granger entrusted Rose to him. 

“Yeah, mate. Four months.” 

A disbelieving laugh escaped from his lips, eyes once again following Rose as she bounded from one Quidditch product to another. Funny, he had thought, how he could not remember how his life was before Rose came into his life. “Four months,” he repeated, silently thanking all the celestial beings above for bringing the child into his life – and by extension, her mother. 

Theo was looking at him weirdly, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he asked, “So, now that you’ve resigned from the DIMC, what are you planning to do now?” 

A soft sigh escaped from his lips whilst shrugging. “I honestly don’t know,” he confessed. “I don’t really want to go back to primarily managing the Malfoy business and doing paperwork. Zabini is honestly doing a better job at it than I am.” 

“Then, does that mean you plan on applying to the DMLE as a Curse Breaker?” his best friend asked, looking mildly surprised. 

“Nott, I said I _don’t_ know,” he grounded out with a roll of his eyes. “I’m still trying to sort out my life and choose whatever the hell I want.” 

“Blimey, Draco, no need to get your knickers in a twist,” Theo replied with an amused smirk on his face, pointedly ignoring Draco’s withering glare. “I’m just asking as your concerned best friend, you know. You’ve been lounging around Granger’s house for quite a long time already and babysitting Rose. Not that I have anything against that, but I still think it isn’t want you only wanted to do with your life.” 

Draco sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “After the conclusion of Lestrange’s case, I’m going to start deciding about a lot of things soon,” he supplemented. 

“Mmhmm, does that include a particular pretty, bushy-haired witch and asking her out?” Theo asked with a grin, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. 

He rolled his eyes once again and scowled, unable to prevent his cheeks from reddening. “That is none of your bloody business,” he spat. “Just because you and Lovegood have gotten together _splendidly_ doesn’t mean everybody has to start pairing up, too.” 

“Damn it, Draco, you’re so _slow_ ,” Theo said with a sigh. “Even slower than Gudgeon – yes, all right, I bloody admit. Granger’s not always going to be single and available, you know. She is, after all, quite a great catch and wizards will be swarming soon. You just wait.” 

_‘Not if I got to her first,’_ he thought to himself, unwilling to voice it aloud to his best friend. Instead of answering him, however, he pointed his hand at the fuming shop owner of the Quidditch supplies. “I think we should get her out of this shop before the owner gets an aneurysm.” 

Draco jogged towards a madly giggling Rose and scooped her into his arms. “Nooo,” Rose whined, her hands outstretched towards the model Quidditch players displayed. “Tornados!” 

“I have plenty of those figurines at home,” he tutted. “We should get going now. Your mother is about to meet us soon.” 

Rose’s eyes brightened up at the mention of her mother and happily let him carry her out of the Quidditch store without any tantrums. 

“It’s scary seeing you switch on parent mode effortlessly, mate,” Theo teased, sidling up beside him as they walked through the busy streets of Diagon Alley. 

“Shut up, Theo,” Draco warned with a growl, cheeks reddening once more. “Don’t you have to meet Lovegood or something.” 

Theo’s eyes lit up as he looked at his magical watch. “Right, I better get going. My moon is about to arrive,” he announced. 

The blond made gagging noises, prompting Rose to giggle at his actions. “ _My moon_? Seriously?” he sputtered out, followed by a boisterous guffaw. “You’ve really changed, Theo.” 

“Shut up,” his best friend said, playfully punching him on his arm. He was smiling, albeit with red cheeks. “You’re just jealous because I finally snagged the girl of my dreams.” 

Before Draco could retort something in return, Theo laughingly bid his goodbye and disappeared into the crowd. 

“Will Theo see Luna again?” Rose quipped in question as they started to walk towards Florean’s. Draco smiled since Rose started calling the eccentric witch by her real name. He still couldn’t help but laugh at the story of how they came up with their made-up names. “I miss Luna.” 

“Yes, he’ll be seeing her again,” he then replied. “You can always ask Theo to bring her over when he visits next time, yes?” 

Rose vigorously nodded her head, her hair bouncing wildly around her shoulders. “Okay,” she happily chirped. She then proceeded to tell him all the wonderful things she saw back in the Quidditch store, with promises that she’d be a great Chaser like Captain Birch once she becomes a Hogwarts student. 

Draco smiled. He secretly wished she would be sorted in the Slytherin House. 

They finally arrived in Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, which was, thankfully still scarce with people. Eating ice cream during the cold weather of January still wasn’t a popular idea for most wizards and witches alike. Draco was just thankful there wouldn’t be much ogling again. 

“Hello, Florean!” Rose greeted, waving her hand towards the kind, old owner. Draco placed her back on the floor so she could approach the old wizard closer and give him a bear hug. 

“Hello, Rose,” he greeted in return, patting her back. “Back so soon?” 

Rose eagerly nodded her head, before running towards their normal booth to wait for her mother. 

With the child away, Florean’s eyes settled onto him and Draco felt a little uneasy. To his surprise, however, the old wizard gave him a small, tentative smile. “Is Hermione away at work?” he casually asked. 

Draco slowly nodded, not used to small talks, especially with people he knew didn’t really like him at all. “Today is Lestrange’s trial,” he explained. “Hermione has to testify, but she will drop by here soon.” 

“Oh, yes, I read that in the Prophet this morning,” Florean replied. “It is good to know that good-for-nothing man is finally getting what he deserves.” 

The blond weakly smiled, completely agreeing with him. He couldn’t wait for his uncle to finally land in Azkaban and forever rot inside it. It was still a shame that the dementors were banned from the said wizarding prison. Lestrange deserved to be given the Dementors Kiss after all. But then, he thought, his soul was already sucked away by Voldemort during his reign of terror. It would be terribly redundant if this creature did it to him, too. 

“Are you coming with them later?” Florean continued, apparently still not done talking with him. 

Draco knitted his eyebrows, confused with his question. “Pardon?” 

He looked at him curiously, before shrugging and continuing, “Today is Ronald Weasley’s death anniversary, lad. I thought Hermione and Rose might be visiting his grave after the ceremony since… _well_.” Florean sadly looked at him and sighed. “It still breaks my heart how Molly blamed her for everything.” 

“Oh,” Draco said, eyes widening in surprise. He had forgotten that today was Weasley’s third death anniversary. It perfectly explained why Hermione was extra nervous today, wanting everything to turn out all right. Slightly smiling, he thought it was fitting to condemn Lestrange for eternal imprisonment on that day he killed one of the heroes of the Wizarding World. 

“I think you should best get going,” Florean said, jutting a thumb towards Rose. “That little girl gets terribly impatient when it comes to her favorite dessert.” 

Draco shot a glance at Rose, who now was sporting a humongous pout. Chuckling, he looked back at Florean. “I’ll take a vanilla ice cream and blueberry cheesecake flavored one,” he said. 

Florean looked at him with amusement in his eyes. “Smart choice,” he said. “I was afraid you’d order a peanut butter flavored one.” 

He shot a humored smirk at the kind, old man. “Never again,” he promised. 

Florean chuckled and shooed him away, promising to bring over their order soon. 

“What’s taking you so long?” Rose whined when Draco finally sidled on the booth beside her. 

“Very impatient,” Draco tutted, prompting Rose to stick out her tongue at him. Thankfully, Florean finally arrived with their orders, then returned back to his counter. 

Draco allowed Rose to scoop a few spoonful of ice cream first before inquiring, “Do you have another field trip with your mother later?” 

Rose happily nodded her head and turned to him. “Mama said we will be visiting Papa later, after Florean’s,” she explained. 

He frowned. “And you didn’t think of inviting me?” he asked. 

The girl placed her spoon down and mirrored Draco’s frown. “I tried to tell Mama to invite you so that you can finally meet my Papa,” she started, “But Mama said we can’t bother you because you’re busy and you’ll get grumpy.” 

He bit his tongue, so as not to retort that he already met her father before (quite unfortunately). He also did not want to tell her that he’s not bloody busy, that he resigned from his _job_ for Merlin’s sake. What he did not really understand was why Hermione didn’t want him to come with them. He knew that even if she had planned to divorce him before his untimely death, Ron’s death still broke her heart. He wanted to come with her, knowing how today was particularly painful for her, even if he wasn’t really close with the Weasel. 

“Mama, you’re here!” Rose suddenly exclaimed, jumping down from her seat to give Hermione a hug. 

Draco quickly looked at the brunette, who was obviously exhausted from the trial. But the way her eyes lit up when they connected with his made him believe that everything went well. 

“He pleaded guilty,” Hermione gushed, plopping down on the seat opposite him. “He’s…” She paused, took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and continued, “He’s finally being locked up in Azkaban.” She was brimming with happiness and started to lightly shiver. “Merlin, I’m shaking.” 

Hermione laughed, her eyes shining a tad brightly, and confessed, “I may have said a bad word or two.” 

Smirking, he leaned his chin against his right hand. “And?” 

“You were right,” she said with a nod. “The Wizengamot didn’t fault me for it. I think… well, I _know_ it had helped on with their decision more, if that even made sense.” 

He felt relieved that his deranged uncle finally got the punishment he deserved. He actually planned on marching to the Wizengamot if by some chance they decided that this bastard wouldn’t be thrown to Azkaban. 

With a grin, he pointed at his half-finished dessert and asked, “Celebratory ice cream?” 

“Bloody hell yes,” she replied with an equally wide grin.

Rose released a tiny gasp and stared at her mother with wide-eyes. “No bad words, Mama!” she exclaimed, looking at Hermione as if she was a different person. 

“Right, of course. Sorry, love,” Hermione said, but her grin only widened. 

Seeing her so pumped and happy, Draco didn’t have the heart to confront her about her secret trip with Rose. He made a mental note to ask her about it later. For now, he just watched her eat her ice cream in contentment.

* * *

Hermione excused herself to purchase some last minute materials for Rose’s bedroom renovation. After finishing her latest project – which was surprisingly the vast Nott library – Luna volunteered her services so that they could finally do something about Rose’s blinding, nauseating bedroom decoration. 

Now, Draco and Rose were in Flourish and Blotts to kill the time. Hermione didn’t want them to tag along, seeing that her daughter was already tired from their trip, and promised to be as quick as possible. Surprisingly, Rose didn’t throw a fit and instead dragged Draco to the bookstore. 

“You have a pile of unread books, Rose,” Draco tutted when he saw the child eyeing a few colorful, children books. 

“Mama said I can read as many as I like,” Rose protested, her tiny hands already grasping a book, bearing a cover of a princess with a sword. “She said it’s food for the mind.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Of course she’d say that,” he said with a sigh. 

Draco let her get a few more books without commenting any further. He only rescued her shaking arms when she grabbed her tenth book, amused at the amount of books the girl would love to read. Not that he had any complaints about her obvious love for books. He just hoped she wouldn’t grow up as a swot like her mother. 

“Draco, I have a question.” 

He shot a look at the surprisingly pensive child and lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. “Ask away, menace,” he said, shifting the books in his arms for a comfortable position. 

“Can you be my new Daddy?” 

All ten books came tumbling down from his arms in shock with her question. The bookstore owner peered from his counter to look at the commotion he made, but Draco made frantic, dismissive hand gestures to know that he got this. He went down on all fours and hastily gathered the books, scowling when he noticed that his hands weren’t obeying his orders. 

“Draco,” Rose said with a pout, pulling onto his jumper to get his attention. “Why aren’t you answering my question?” 

The blond snarled and plopped down on the floor, thinking that this conversation mattered more than gathering the haphazard books. Leaning against one of the bookshelves, he lightly glared down at the crouching child. “Where the hell did you get that idea from?” he spat, positively sure that his cheeks were as red as her wild hair. Thankfully, there were less people in the store right now. He only got at least three weird stares from strangers. 

“Aunt Ginny told me all about Papa,” Rose said, falling on all fours and crawling towards the silently panicking wizard. She curled up beside him and frowned. “Mama doesn’t say much, but Aunt Ginny answered all of my questions.” 

Despite his nerves, he smirked. “All of it?” he asked, hazarding a guess that her questions were, quite frankly, _a lot_. 

Rose bobbed her head. “All of it,” she repeated. “She also told me that my Papa loves me very much and he’s looking down at me wherever he is. Aunt Ginny also told me that I shouldn’t worry because there might still be a chance I may have a new father.” 

Draco sneered, mentally cursing the conniving witch. “Did she now?” he spat, recalling all the times her eyes always sparkled and plotted every time he and Hermione were interacting. 

“Yes, and I asked her how I would have a new father,” she continued. 

“And what did she say?” Somehow, he was dreading the answer to her question. 

She shrugged her shoulders and leant her head against his arm. “She said that if I politely ask someone I really love, I may have a new father,” she simply said, craning her head to look up at him. “I thought of you, Draco. I can’t call you ‘Papa’, though, because I already have one. So I decided to call you ‘Daddy’ instead, if you’ll become one.” 

His throat was closing up at how big and hopeful her eyes were. “Who said I’d agree to that?” he lamely asked. 

She shrugged once more and pouted. “I thought of Theo too, but I think he is too busy with Luna now,” she said with a sigh. “Aunt Ginny said I can’t have Uncle Harry too because he’s already reserved for her future babies” – he snorted in amusement – “so I thought of you. You’re always taking care of Mama and me, so I love you the most.” 

He didn’t know it was possible for his hardened, cold heart to be swayed by a six-year-old. Admittedly, he always imagined himself as part of their family – him, Hermione, and Rose – doing what he thought a family should do. He never really had any experience of having a ‘normal’ family, and for a six-year-old he truly cared about to offer it to him without any reservations… _well_ , damn it all, but this haughty man’s heart had completely melted. 

“What are you two doing there?” 

Both of their eyes snapped up to look at an amused Hermione. Numerous bags were perched on her arms, mostly containing the supplies needed for Rose’s bedroom renovation, but she still managed to fist her hands against her hips. 

Instead of answering her question, Rose scrambled onto her feet and excitedly peered through the materials her mother bought. Hermione shot Draco a questioning look but the blond merely shook his head and finally gathered all of Rose’s books. 

“You’re a prat if you think you’re still going to pay for those,” Hermione said with a disapproving gaze at Rose’s ten books. 

“And you’re foolish if you think I’d let you pay these,” he answered with a smirk, showing her all the ten books. His smirk turned into a grin, taking Rose’s distraction as an opportunity to pay them all. Rose had slowed her down and by the time Hermione reached the counter, all of Rose’s books were placed in a bag. 

“Draco,” she warned, bordering whiny. “Let me pay you in the future, please.” 

“Fat chance, Granger,” he smirked, swiveling around and strolling out of the bookstore. 

He heard Hermione release a huge sigh of frustration and defeat, prompting him to fondly smile. 

As they journeyed back to the Apparition point, Draco was thankful that Rose seemed to have forgotten their conversation back in Flourish and Blotts. He still had no idea what to reply to her request and was afraid he’d say something and forever ruin his chance of asking Granger out. 

Once Hermione disapparated, however, Rose looked him in the eye and gripped his arm. “I think Mama loves you the most, too,” she seriously said. “So, you’re going to think about my request, Draco?” 

It was a bloody miracle he wasn’t able to splinch himself or Rose when they disapparated on the spot.

* * *

“I know where you’re going, Granger.”

Hermione flinched and sheepishly turned around, wrapping the eccentric, but cute scarf Luna gave her for Christmas around her neck. Draco was sitting on her couch – _his_ couch, really, as he had claimed that furniture ever since he started crashing in her flat. His arms were tightly crossed against his chest and there was a disappointed scowl on his face. 

She knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but she just couldn’t help but heartily laugh. He was acting like every bit of a father catching his daughter in the act of sneaking out. Shaking her head in apology, especially when Draco’s scowl darkened at her reaction, she still stood by her belief that parenting came _too_ naturally to him. It was eerie.   

“I’m sorry, _Father_. I didn’t mean for you to catch me,” she said once her laughter died down. Then, craning her head, “Rosie, come out now. Draco still caught us.” 

Rose sneaked her head from the door, madly giggling with excitement. “I told you, Mama,” she exclaimed, quickly running towards her mother. “We should ask him to come with us.” 

All the laughter died down from her lips, now sadly looking at her daughter. Wordlessly then, she shifted her eyes on Draco once more. He wasn’t scowling anymore, but he looked deeply hurt at being left out. Hermione almost felt sorry she didn’t ask him, but had guessed he wouldn’t come with them anyway. 

“So… you remembered,” Hermione started, placing both of her hands on top of her daughter’s shoulders. 

“Of course I remember,” he snarled back, slowly rising up from the couch. His brows were furrowed into an angry frown as he stalked closer to the mother-daughter pair. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Her gaze landed on the floor and sighed. “I thought… well, we can’t really bother you with our family matters,” she muttered quickly under her breath. She wasn’t quite sure if Draco heard her, so she continued, “Besides, I didn’t think this day matters to you.” 

She always knew about the bad blood between her late husband and the wizard standing in front of her. Ron had made it a point to rant about Malfoy and his privileges when they were still in Hogwarts, painfully envious of his riches. Sighing quietly, she wished Ron knew now that he was far richer in all other aspects besides money compared to Draco, and he was the privileged one, really. 

“Of course it matters to me, Hermione,” he grumbled, a tinge of hurt in the tone of his voice. Hermione’s eyes shot back up in surprise. He didn’t meet her gaze, though, and instead petulantly glared at her carpeted floor. “I know how this day means to you and I… I don’t want you to be _alone_.” 

Emotions burst in her heart, but she still managed to jokingly reply, “Well, Rose is with me. So technically, I’m not alone.” 

He wasn’t amused with her attempt for humor. “You know what I mean, Granger,” he griped, once again crossing his arms against his chest. 

Hermione smiled at him and extended her hand. Draco eyed her fingers in distrust, before finally slumping and giving in. “Fine, you can come with us,” she said with a fond smile. “Only if you stop being such a baby.” 

He scowled at her, but the way he squeezed her hand in comfort meant he wasn’t completely annoyed with her. He then let go and stepped aside, and Hermione had to curl her hand into a fist so as not to reach out for him again. 

“Up, up, Draco!” Rose chirped, happy that he was going with them after all. 

Hermione watched, amused, as the blond rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I think it’s finally time break it to you, Rose, seeing that your mother is too much of a chicken to tell you.” Hermione threw a playful glare at him, prompting him to smirk. “But you should know that you are growing up, quite fast actually, and our poor arms cannot handle your weight anymore.” 

Wide-eyed, Rose gazed at her mother. “Mama, is it true?” she gasped. “Am I growing very fast?” 

Her mother chuckled and ran a hand through her red curls. “Yes, sweetheart,” she said. “And before you know it, you’ll be in Hogwarts soon and studying in the library.” 

“ _Or_ , trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team,” Draco helpful added. 

“Gryffindor!” both Hermione and Rose said at the same time. 

Draco made a face but didn’t retort anything back. He then settled with holding onto Rose’s hand instead. 

“Anyway, I think we should go now,” Hermione said, looking at her watch. “I want to be back before dinner.” Then, to Draco, she asked, “Do  _you_ know where we are going?” 

He sheepishly shrugged, making her laugh. 

“Okay, I’ll side-along apparate you both,” she said. “Hold on tight.” 

Grasping both of Draco and Rose’s arms, Hermione disapparated with a pop. Mere seconds only passed, but they finally reappeared in a familiar field. Looking around, her eyes slightly watered at the sight of the rickety Burrow a few meters away from them. 

“Isn’t that - ?” 

Hermione craned her neck and nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Ron wanted to be buried near his home.” 

Worry clouded his mercurial eyes. “But the Weasleys…” 

She sighed and shook her head. “Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “They already moved out after the Second War.” Her eyes turned sad once more, reminiscing all of her happy childhood memories in this place. “After some of them died… Molly couldn’t take living in here.” 

Draco touched her elbow for comfort, prompting her to smile once more. “Come,” she said, pulling him and Rose. “I have a husband to visit.” 

Ron’s grave was located under a huge oak tree near the Burrow. It was his favorite tree, having lounged under it during his summer days. Hermione could almost imagine him sitting underneath it, waving his hand enthusiastically, and smiling widely at her. 

There was an uncomfortable lump in her throat upon staring down at Ron’s grave. There were remnants of the ceremony conducted a while ago, even spying a knitted sweater Molly most likely had made for her deceased son. Messages of gratitude, ‘I miss you’s’, and fond memories decorated his grave, complete with fresh flowers charmed to never wilt. 

Hermione shakily grasped a picture frame enclosing an image of her, Harry, and Ron, all laughingly waving at the camera. 

“Hello, Ron,” she said, a tear slowly rolling down from her eye. “I miss you.” 

She pulled out her wand and conjured a small sunflower before carefully placing it on his grave. She felt Draco’s warm, comforting presence behind her and could hear her daughter sniffing loudly beside her. 

Smiling, she pulled Rose closer and gave her a hug. 

“I finally caught your murderer,” she continued, absentmindedly brushing away Rose’s tears. “I think you will be happy to hear Lestrange is sentenced for a lifetime in Azkaban.”   

She sighed and placed the picture frame back on his grave. “It’s still odd, knowing that I’ll never be able to see your face anymore,” she said. Hermione lovingly ran a hand through his name and smiled. “I… didn’t love you the way you deserved to be as my husband, Ron, but I loved you so much as a friend. It still kills me how things ended up between us.” 

She wiped away some of the tears from her face. Draco immediately offered his handkerchief and Hermione accepted it. Instead of using it on her face, however, she opted to wipe Rose’s tears instead. 

It saddened her how her daughter looked devastated. Rose never really had a clear memory about her father, seeing that she was barely three when he died, but to see her being affected so much… It pained her heart how she never really had the chance to grow up with a father. 

“Come, Rosie, say hi to your Papa,” she whispered. 

Rose sniffed and plopped down on the grass, and proceeded to talk to Ron about her day, her new friends, and even Draco. Hermione hid a smile, imagining her ex-husband scowling down at her from the sky since she allowed their daughter to get attached to Draco Malfoy. 

“You okay?” She turned her head to look at the said blond, but then he scowled and shook his head. “Of course not, it was a stupid question.” 

“Shockingly, I am okay,” she reassured, standing up from her position to stretch her legs. 

Draco still worriedly peered at her, not entirely buying her claim. But then, he might have seen something in her eyes for his worried gaze melted into sad relief. 

“Thank you for being here,” she said, reaching out to grasp his hand in gratitude. “You were right; I shouldn’t be alone today.” 

Instead of answering, he merely gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Smiling gently at her, Hermione swallowed down her emotions and gazed heavenward. 

_‘Ron,’_ she thought, closing her eyes in silent prayer. _‘I think I might be in love with Draco Malfoy. Please forgive me.’_  

As a gentle breeze grazed her cheek, Hermione slightly smiled. She wanted to believe it was Ron’s way of accepting her feelings. 

Somewhere, in her heart, she believed this was finally the closure she needed.

Now, she could finally start anew.


	25. The Talk

Rose woke up with a jolt, remnants of her scary nightmare still lingering in her terrified mind. Tears steadily streamed down from her face as she shot a panicked glance at her mother. Hermione was sleeping soundly on the bed with her hair messily sprawled all over her pillow. 

She knew her mother was incredibly tired after today’s work. She had sensed she and her Uncle Harry had worked hard for today when Hermione came by to pick her up from the Ministry daycare. Therefore, despite the fear in her heart, she didn’t want to wake her mother up. 

Rose had this inkling her mother had been crying a lot because of her for the past few days. Her mother and Draco never really told her anything at all, but Rose knew something big and bad had happened to her when she woke up in St. Mungo’s. Ever the curious little tyke, millions of questions ran inside her head. Strangely, though, she knew she couldn’t ask her mother out loud, lest she brought her mother into tears once more. 

She hated a lot of things in life, like how Mrs. Figg always forced her to wear that itchy scarf around her neck or Sophie Boot boasting that her parents were the _bestest_ – there was no doubt that it was her mother, seriously!– and how people seemed to always glare at Draco when he had been really nice and good, trying his very best not to say bad words anymore. But the thing she hated the most was seeing her mother _cry_. 

Therefore, it was decided. Rose jumped down from the bed she shared with her mother and shivered slightly at the cold. The shadows seemed frightening tonight but she steadfastly ignored them, mustering the Gryffindor courage she knew she inherited from both her mother and father to venture out of her mother’s bedroom. 

It didn’t take long before she finally arrived in their living room. Draco’s unmistakable form was sprawled inelegantly on their couch and despite her tears, Rose giggled when she heard him snore. 

Rose barged quickly towards the blond and shook him awake. “Draco,” she urgently whispered. “Draco, wake up!” 

The blond groaned irately and batted her hand away. “Rose,” he rasped out, voice still scratchy from sleep. “I don’t want to eat cookies tonight.” He turned his back from her and buried his blond hair underneath his comforter. 

Frustrated and scared, she shook him awake once more. “Draco, please, wake up,” she pleaded. Her eyes watered and her bottom lip quivered. Her Gryffindor courage was running low, and she needed Draco to wake up. Now! 

She took a huge sniff and felt Draco stiffen against her hand. Immediately, he shot up from the couch and peered at her worriedly. He grabbed his wand and illuminated the closest lamp from the couch just to give him enough light to see her. 

“Why are you crying?” he demanded, grasping on both of her wrists to survey her. “Where’s your mother?” 

“Mama’s asleep.” Her voice had quietened down considerably now that Draco was awake. Her nightmare came back to her once more and her tears increased. “D-Draco, I had a nightmare.” 

Alarm flashed in his eyes as he tentatively pulled her closer. “Was it…” He paused and swallowed. “Was it the same masked men you dreamt before?” 

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “How did you know?” she asked in wonder. 

“Lucky guess,” he mumbled. His grey eyes darkened with worry as she wordlessly lifted her hand up and wriggled her fingers. 

Sighing, he effortlessly stood up and brought her into his arms. Rose tightly wound her arms and legs around him and buried her face against his neck. Draco’s hugs were always warm and comforting; Rose already felt loads better just being held by him. 

“Does it bother you?” he then asked. “About those… those nightmares?” 

She slowly nodded her head against his neck. “But it’s okay,” she continued. “I feel better now, Draco.” 

“Maybe we should tell your mother -” 

“NO!” she exclaimed loudly, surprising Draco. Rose’s cheeks colored when he furrowed his eyebrows. “Mama is… she’s always _crying_ because of me…” Her bottom lip quivered in shame. “I don’t want her to cry anymore.” 

A fond snort escaped from Draco’s lips. “Barmy menace. Your mother will never stop worrying about you.” He shifted her in his arms in a more comfortable position. “I still think we should tell your mother. She’d know what to do.” 

She had no answer to that because she knew it was the truth. Maybe her mother would know what to do to stop those nightmares from coming already. But for now, she wanted her mother to rest first. 

“Can you sing to me?” she asked, widening her eyes innocently and protruding her bottom lip. Rose found out years ago that when she did that, people seemed to do what she asked for. Uncle Harry always snapped and bought her the things she really liked, which her mother always got angry about. 

To her utmost surprise, Draco glared instead. “No,” he curtly replied. 

“Please, Draco, please,” she whined, tightening her arms around him. “Mama always sang to me when I have a nightmare.” 

“I’m not your Mama,” he pointed out with a frown. 

“But you’ll be my Daddy soon, right?” she insisted. A horrified expression on his features, but Rose hedged on. “Right, Draco? And to be my Daddy, you have to sing to me every time I have a nightmare.” 

He growled and made a move to put her back on the floor but she held on tighter. “Go back to your mother and sleep, menace,” he warned. 

Panic gripped her tiny heart, realizing that Draco wasn’t relenting. The thought of going back to her bedroom, with her mother sleeping, while the shadows in the room hovered near their bed terrified her to bits and pieces. The memory of the masked men circling above her would most likely keep her awake. Desperate sobs escaped from her lips and she buried her face against Draco’s neck. 

“R-rose?” he called, worry in his voice as he gently rubbed her back. 

Rose didn’t know what to do anymore. She didn’t know how to convince Draco to sing for her to dispel her nightmares away. Maybe she should have woken up her mother instead. Rose would hate herself if her mother started crying, but she was so scared! What was she going to do? 

Her cries quietened down in shock, however, when she heard Draco’s low, raspy voice. She instantly recognized _‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’_ but his lyrics were wrong and weird. His singing was bad, too; her mother sang the song the bestest, after all. 

But this would do, she thought. Draco started to rock her a bit and Rose actually felt comforted. He didn’t know the lyrics anymore, but he was humming under his breath, and that was enough for Rose. 

“Thank you, Draco,” she sighed, eyes already drooping close. She felt him smile against her hair and Rose sleepily grinned in return. 

She really loved Draco the most.

* * *

Hermione rolled over the bed, expecting to feel the warmth of Rose beside her. When all she felt was cold and emptiness, she fully opened her eyes and sat up. 

“Rose?” she called out in the dead of the night. Panic rose when she didn’t hear any reply. 

The brunette convinced herself she was just being too paranoid. Rose’s abduction was still too fresh in her mind and she just had to make sure that her daughter was safe. 

Hastily retrieving her wand, Hermione checked their bathroom. Her heart was pounding when, again, there was no Rose in sight. All rational thoughts flew out of the window when she jogged towards Rose’s bedroom. She didn’t care if she opened the door a little too forcefully. 

Fearful tears formed in her eyes when Rose was still nowhere to be found. Hermione blindly ran down the stairs towards the living room, intent of waking Draco up and reporting that her daughter was missing. _Again_. She mentally cursed herself for being too complacent once she thought Rose was safe. But then, she forgot that the world is a dangerous place. As an auror, she should have learned this by heart by now. 

“Dr-” 

The words died down from her lips as she took in the scene before her eyes. Draco was facing away from her, a slumbering Rose in his arms. He was still oblivious of Hermione’s presence as he hummed the unmistakable tune of _‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’_ , gently rocking Rose to sleep. 

Her heart stuttered at the sight, her mind becoming a jumbled mess. Emotions threatened to spill out from her heart and Hermione had no idea what to do. 

She stood rooted on the spot and watched as Draco finally turned around. His lullaby instantly ended when his surprised gaze fell on her form. A lovely blush spread all over his face in embarrassment at being caught. At the same time, he narrowed his eyes, accusatory. 

“Granger,” he snapped in an angry whisper. “What the hell are you doing there?” 

She stepped out of the shadows and sauntered closer to her sleeping child and the man who had unknowingly caught her heart. Her eyes were wide with awe and disbelief, questioning how such a wonderful man came into their life. Hermione mentally kicked Fate for waiting for a very long time for her to realize that he was the one for her – the _only_ one for her – and she lamented at all those wasted times she had, dawdling away from him. But then again, maybe if she realized about it too early, Rose might not exist. Hermione didn’t want that either. 

“Hermione?” he called, his embarrassed fury completely melting, replaced by genuine worry. 

“I… I thought Rose was missing,” she breathlessly replied. She took a few more steps forward and stopped when she was merely inches away from Draco. 

A look of understanding crossed his features. “She had a nightmare,” he softly explained. Hermione’s eyes widened as he sadly smiled. “The same _masked men_.” Draco growled and protectively tightened his hold around Rose. “I hope Lestrange rots in Azkaban for even daring to lay a hand on Rose.” 

Hermione’s heart hummed as a tear slowly slid down from her face. 

This… this was the man she would willingly give her heart to. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked, alarmed. Draco absentmindedly traced a finger against her wet cheek and frowned. “Rose is safe, Granger. I told you I’ll protect you both.” 

His cheeks reddened more with his words and looked away from Hermione’s bright, glassy eyes. 

Her mind and heart chanted for her to finally tell him, that he had been in her heart for the past few months, and perhaps take their friendship to the next level. Her everything ached for him, and Hermione knew she’d start going insane with her unimaginable restraint. 

Her hand seemed to have a mind of her own, placing itself against his warm cheek. Draco stiffened under her touch, his eyes growing a little too wide with her gentleness. 

“Draco,” she fondly called, taking another step forward. “I…” A huge grin bloomed on her face and she didn’t care if she almost looked like a madwoman in his eyes. Merlin help her but she was _hopeless_. She feared that she’d get rejected, but… but she had seen his eyes. She’d seen how he sometimes looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She’d seen how he sometimes stopped himself from reaching out to her just to touch her. She’d seen how his breath hitched when she was a tad near to him. 

“Draco, I -” 

She paused as Rose steered and sleepily opened her eyes. “Mama?” she asked in a raspy voice, before releasing a huge yawn. 

Hermione knew the spell was already broken. She sighed at her bad timing, shook her head fondly at her daughter, before lifting her out of Draco’s arms. “Draco said you had a nightmare, sweetheart,” she gently said. 

Rose panicked and angrily looked at Draco, who merely rolled his eyes in return. 

“It isn’t Draco’s fault, Rosie,” Hermione appeased. “Don’t get angry with him.” 

“But Mama,” her daughter tearfully replied. “You’re… you’re _crying_ again. And it’s because of me!” 

She was confused with Rose’s words and shot a glance at Draco. “She didn’t want to bother you because she thinks she’s making you cry too much for these past few days,” he explained. 

Hermione’s heart swelled as she fondly looked down at Rose. “Oh, sweetheart, your Mama will prefer it very much if you tell her you’re having nightmares,” she lightly admonished. She cuddled her daughter close to her chest and sighed. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Rosie. Mama feels a little emotional these past few days. It isn’t because of you. I _promise_.” 

It was a white lie. Of course she had been crying a lot because of her daughter, but Rose did not need to know that. 

Her words somehow did the trick because Rose relaxed in her arms. “I saw the scary masked men again, Mama,” she finally confessed, daintily sniffing when tears filled her eyes once more. “I was really scared.” The child haphazardly wiped her tears away and threw a bright grin towards Draco. “But I’m okay now! Draco sang me _‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’_ , but his words were wrong. And his voice isn’t pretty.” 

“Thanks, menace. I’m glad to know I’ve been appreciated,” Draco snarled with a glare. 

Hermione chuckled while Rose stuck out her tongue at the blond. “You’re really okay now, Rosie?” she tentatively asked. She touched her daughter’s cheeks and wiped the remaining tears away. 

Rose vigorously nodded her head, prompting her to smile. 

“Okay, since you’ve been very brave, I think I’ll allow you to eat a cookie tonight.” Rose gasped in surprise and Hermione hastily added, “Just _one_ , young lady.” 

“Oh, Mama, you’re the bestest!” the redhead squealed and tightly wound her arms around Hermione’s neck. 

Hermione grinned and looked above Rose’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to eat with us, Draco,” she invited, her belly flipping over when a devilish smirk spread across his handsome face. 

“Will you be mad at me if I get more than one?” 

Rose whipped her head and childishly glared at Draco. “No fair!” she whined. “Mama said we can only get one.” 

Draco rolled his eyes and grumbled all the way to their small kitchen. Rose chattered their ears off, Hermione only half-listening about her adventures with Frank Longbottom and the daycare. 

It felt like they were a proper family. She was suddenly fueled with the desire to finally tell him about her feelings. 

Such was her happiness she even feigned ignorance when she caught Draco sneakily handing another cookie to Rose, who immediately chuck it wholly inside her mouth and giggled. 

* * *

Her heart jumped into her throat when she spied Harry already waiting on a table near the huge window of the Muggle restaurant. Hermione originally planned to arrive at least ten minutes before her best friend to gather her thoughts, but Davies cornered her earlier to talk about this new case she was handling. Thus, she was late for _fifteen_ minutes for their lunch date and her head was still a jumbled mess. 

After last night’s events with Rose’s nightmare and all, Hermione decided to finally tell Harry that she was harboring not-so-platonic feelings for one Draco Malfoy. Not that things would change if Harry did not give his blessing because _damn it all_ , she was a grown woman capable of deciding things for her own. 

Still, Harry was Ron’s very first friend. She was always the third-wheel in their wonderful friendship. Eleven-year-old Hermione sometimes felt an outsider and had been admittedly hurt by it, but she came to accept it as she watched their friendship blossom before her eyes. 

And so, Hermione couldn’t help but feel that if she started dating Draco, she might be betraying Harry, too. 

“I assume Davies gave you another pep talk about your new case,” Harry greeted once she slipped on the chair opposite him. 

Despite her nerves, she was surprised. “How did you know?” she asked. 

“Really, Hermione, I’ve known you for _years_ ,” he pointed out with a wide smile. “You are always, _painfully_ so, on time. Seeing that we are currently working under a rather overzealous department head, I hazarded Davies gave you one of his infamous ‘talks’ after getting a assigning a newcase.” 

She flashed a small smile and nodded. “Davies can really be a handful sometimes,” she said, prompting Harry to snort at her gross understatement. “Better Davies over McLaggen, though, yeah?” 

“Oh yes.” His eyes comically widened at the prospect of working under Henrik McLaggen. “I still cannot understand how Malfoy was able to survive working under that buffoon for a month.” 

At the mention of Draco, the nervousness she felt came back with a full force. Harry looked worried at her sudden change of demeanor. 

“Is something the matter, Hermione?” he asked. He reached forward to grip her hand. “I had a feeling that you have something important to tell me when you invited me over for lunch today.” 

 _‘Oh, fuck it,’_ she thought to herself, then unhesitatingly blurted out, “I like Draco.” 

His grip slackened, but his face remained impassive. “Well,” he slowly drawled, “I admit he is still a bloody wanker, but I’ll be lying if I say I don’t find him… err… _tolerable_ now. More tolerable, actually.” 

“No, no, Harry,” she persisted. “I mean like _like_ him. Very much, if I were honest with myself.” 

Her best friend looked confused for a while, before realization dawned on his face. His emerald eyes widened in surprise. “Oh,” he gasped out. Hermione braced herself for an inevitable outburst – because really, he would never be Harry Potter if he never had random bouts of explosive emotions – but to her utmost surprise, Harry managed to crack a small smile. Granted, it was weird and almost lopsided, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Took you long enough, I guess.” 

“W-what?” she sputtered out. 

Harry sighed and gave her a pointed look. “It’s painfully obvious, Hermione,” he supplemented. “Between Ron and I, you know I wasn’t the thick-headed one.” 

Hermione gaped. “You’re not… you’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be?” he asked, looking genuinely surprised she thought he would be. “Should I be?” 

“No,” she hastily replied. “I mean… yes? Maybe? This is _Draco Malfoy_ we are talking about, Harry. And Ron was –” She swallowed thickly and looked down at the table. “Ron was your best friend.” 

Silence met her claim. Hermione braced herself for Harry’s outburst this time, but when none came – _once again_ – she was very confused. Instead, Harry pulled her into a tight, comforting hug that made her eyes water. 

“You’re my best friend, too,” Harry whispered against her ear. She could hear his smile and Hermione felt a little stupid for being too choked up with emotions. “And I want you to be happy, Hermione. You’ve gone through a lot – heck, we’ve gone through a lot together – and we _deserve_ to be happy. Although it’s still so bloody weird and surreal, I firmly believe that Malfoy obviously made you happy.” 

She smiled against his neck. “He really does,” she whispered in reply. 

Harry sighed and pulled her away. “Blimey, it’s still odd to see that he can handle Rose very well,” he said. “I think… I think Malfoy might become a brilliant father to Rose, more than I can ever be to your daughter.” 

Hermione’s cheeks tinted red. “I just said I like him, Harry,” she admonished. “I never said I’d marry him.” Though, she did quite think about that a little too often. 

Snorting, Harry shook his head. “Like I said, you’re painfully obvious, ‘Mione,” he fondly said with a smile. Her cheeks inflamed more, and Hermione couldn’t help but sheepishly smile. “Honestly, I know you won’t listen to me at all when I said he’s bad news and forbid you from dating him.” 

“You know me too well,” she said with a bright smile. 

He matched her grin and pulled her into his arms once more. “You’re like a sister to me, Hermione,” he continued. “And so, I think it’s my obligation to give Malfoy the big brother talk and threaten to blast his ball sacks off if he hurt you _or_ Rose.” 

“We’re not dating yet, Harry.” 

Harry snorted once more. “Really, Hermione, you’re not the only _painfully obvious_ one,” he pointed out. “You’re not the one observing Malfoy’s sappy look every time you are in the same room.” 

Her cheeks reddened a bit as hope bloomed in her heart. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much,” she reminded him. “I already have a list of spells at hand if he dared to even hurt us.” 

She felt his chest rumbling with laughter. “Now, I kinda feel bad for the poor sod – OW! Hermione!” he whined, pulling away to rub his smart shoulder. 

She smiled brilliantly and placed a kiss on Harry’s cheeks. “Thank you, Harry,” she sincerely replied. “I… this means a lot to me.” 

“You’re my _best friend_ ,” he reiterated, fondly tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “I want you to be happy.” 

If it were more possible, her beam widened, thanking the universe for giving Harry Potter to her.  

* * *

The very next day, Hermione found herself in the same restaurant she had been with Harry. Only this time, Theodore Nott sat across from her. 

It came as a surprise when Theo barged into the DMLE and practically dragged her out of the ministry building. Hermione tried to search for Harry to ask help, but her bespectacled friend was nowhere to be found. Thus, she had no choice but to let Theo Nott pull her into the said restaurant. 

A waiter already came to get their orders, but Nott still would not explain his reason for bringing her here. Hermione silently observed him and noticed that his laid-back, sarcastic attitude seemed to be entirely missing today. In fact, Nott looked deadly serious and Hermione felt a little nervous. 

Their orders soon came and Hermione wordlessly sliced through her chicken. She debated whether to break the silence first, but wondered if that would be a good thing to do. 

“How do you feel about Draco?” 

She choked on the chicken meat and hastily emptied her glass of water. Hermione glared through her watery eyes, noting that Theo was unfazed and stoic. It was truthfully starting to unnerve Hermione. 

“Honestly, Nott, that’s none of your business,” she pointed out with a frown. 

“It’s my _fucking_ business, Granger,” he snapped, leaning closer to the brunette. Hermione was astonished at the vehemence in his voice. “Draco is one of the most important people in my life right now. Without him, I might have killed myself ages ago because of all the fucked up things I went through” – Hermione flinched at his casual confession – “so yes, _Granger_ , this is my fucking business because one of the things I fervently wished after the end of the War was to see Draco _happy_ … bloody, truly happy.” 

Hermione gaped after his small tirade, watching as Theo composed himself and leant back against his chair. 

“You and I both know this world is unforgiving to Draco,” he continued, this time softly. “Frankly, Granger, Draco will not be able to take it if he discovers you are merely stringing him along; that you are merely keeping him close because he’s fucking _good_ to your daughter. If this is honestly your only intention, then I really think you should just fuck off and not lead him on.” 

Her eyes dangerously flashed at his insinuation, but Theo wasn’t finished yet. 

His eyes had considerably softened, and she was able to see that Theo Nott she had become acquainted with for the past months. “I have watched Draco struggle with his feelings for you for _years_ , Granger.” His voice was now gentler and sad, and Hermione couldn’t understand why her eyes started to water. “Your pregnancy and subsequent marriage with Weasley were one of the worst days of his life. Trust me.” 

A tear slipped down from her eye and Theo considerably mellowed. 

“He had been waiting for you for so long, Granger,” he grounded out with a sad smile. “If you have no intention of ever reciprocating his feelings, then you have to tell him now so he could stop waiting and finally move on.” 

She hiccupped a laugh, slightly amused that Nott was now starting to grow uncomfortable with her tears. “Draco is quite lucky to have you as his best friend,” she finally croaked out in reply. 

His cheeks reddened. 

“But Nott, your little tirade was uncalled for,” she continued with a wide grin. “I like Draco. _Very much,_ if I were honest with myself.” 

Theo didn’t bother hiding his sigh of relief, prompting her smile to widen. 

“I actually talked with Harry yesterday in this very same restaurant, breaking the news to him about my newfound feelings for Draco.” She blushed and shyly peered into his eyes. “Harry was just telling me about giving Malfoy the big brother talk. I never expected I’ll be receiving one the very next day.” 

The brown-haired wizard opposite her nervously cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening once more. “Yeah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure what you felt about Draco and I have this funny inkling the bastard’s about to make a move on you. I figured I’d give you this talk first before he did something and make a fool out of himself.” 

“He’s not going to make a fool out of himself,” she assured with a pretty smile. 

Theo flashed a boyish grin and leaned closer to her once more. “Let’s keep this conversation a secret between us, yeah?” he suggested. “If Draco found out I revealed his well-kept secret, he will not hesitate to kick my arse to the next millennium. I’m sure of it.” 

Hermione grinned, her eyes twinkling in mischief. “It depends,” she slowly said. “I still haven’t forgiven you for bringing my daughter to one of your dates.” 

“With _Luna_ ,” he reasoned out. “Beautiful, brilliant, lovely Luna Lovegood.” 

“Still,” she replied, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. 

Theo snorted and shook his head. “Sometimes, I wonder why you weren’t Sorted in Slytherin,” he confessed. 

“Maybe because I’m muggle-born and your Founder hated people like me?” she helpfully suggested. 

He chuckled and nodded his head. “Maybe if _Rose_ got sorted in Slytherin instead -” 

“Tough luck, Nott,” she said with a smile. “She is a Gryffindor through and through.” 

“Quite true,” he said with a defeated sigh. “What a shame.”

* * *

“Oi, Malfoy.” 

Draco looked up from the rows of Quidditch supplies he was inspecting and frowned. “Potter,” he politely greeted. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion at how obviously uncomfortable The-Boy-Who-Lived was. Beside him stood Ginny Weasley, who merely shrugged at her boyfriend’s strange behavior. 

“Looking for new supplies, Weasley?” Draco drawled, leaning against one of the shelves and lifting an eyebrow. Although he still felt terribly uncomfortable around Potter, the feisty Weasley was someone he could actually easily joke around. If only she would stop giving amused, knowing looks when he and Hermione were interacting. 

“I need to buy a new set of gloves for my next match,” she coolly replied, a hint of challenge in her eyes. 

He smirked. “Scared of the Tornados, Weasley?” 

Ginny scoffed confidently and crossed her arms against her chest. “You wish, Malfoy,” she replied, the corners of her lips twitching. 

Draco allowed himself to genuinely smile at her for a moment. Potter was actually gobsmacked with the expression on his face. “Anyway, I’ve got to run,” he bid as his goodbye. “Good luck on your match, Weasley.” 

Ginny merely nodded her head and returned his smile while Potter continued to have that constipated look on his face. Draco lifted an eyebrow at his strange behavior once more but brushed it away. 

“Oi, Malfoy!” Harry called out to him before he could completely step out from the shop. 

Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked at Harry and frowned. “What is it?” 

He was silent for a minute, looking as if he was debating whether to tell him something or not. Beside him, Ginny rolled her eyes and elbowed him against his ribs. Potter winced, took a deep intake of breath, and glared. “If you hurt _her_ , I will kill you. You hear me?” he threatened. 

Draco did not need to ask who this ‘her’ Harry was pertaining to. Ginny snorted a laugh and fondly shook her head, pulling Harry towards the rows of gloves to save him from embarrassing himself further. 

The blond, admittedly a little flustered with Harry’s words, frowned at his retreating back. 

Nothing has happened between him and Hermione yet, after all.   

Draco was very confused. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know. I'm a terrible tease.


	26. The Confession

He never really thought he’d be back in the Ministry of Magic so soon. But here he was, with a goal in mind. Potter and Hermione’s recommendations weighed heavily inside his pockets as he rushed towards the elevator with the other ministry officials.

Some paper airplanes zoomed in and fluttered quietly above as the elevator dinged for Level 2 – the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

Draco swallowed down his trepidation and slowly walked out of the lift. His eyes scanned the department once more, and unlike last time, the whole department was in a whirlwind of business and work. Nobody even gave him a spare glance, prompting him to slowly release his breath and continue his journey towards the Waiting Area. 

He let his eyes scan the people present in the department, looking for the familiar bushy hair of Hermione and even the bespectacled The-Boy-Who-Lived. Both of them were nowhere to be found, and Draco figured they might have been assigned on the field today. 

Sighing, most likely of relief, Draco focused his wandering gaze on the Waiting Area sign up ahead and picked up his pace. 

When he walked in, several heads landed on his form and he withered. Their gazes turned suspicious, some even nasty, but thankfully, nobody made any comment about the arrival of an ex-Death Eater amongst them. 

He chose to sit closest to the door, in case he changed his mind again and he needed to bolt right out of here immediately. The Waiting Area was awfully cramped with people, and he found himself jammed in between the wall and a huge, broad-shoulder man, with a smashed nose – awfully reminiscent of the wild pigs he had seen back in Hogwarts. Draco thought Porky seemed a fitting nickname for the wizard beside him. 

“What are you applying for?” 

Draco almost jumped from his seat, before warily gazing at Porky. 

“Curse Breaker,” he clipped. 

Porky’s eyebrows disappeared behind his fringes in surprise. “Good choice,” he replied. “I plan to apply to the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol.” 

Draco made a noncommittal sound, looking at the man beside him appraisingly. His big built would be an asset for this department, and he highly doubted Porky wouldn’t be accepted immediately. 

That was the end of their small talk and Draco was forced to confront his thoughts. 

With Hermione away for work and Rose somewhere in the daycare here in the Ministry, Draco found himself getting insanely bored in Granger’s flat. He occasionally dropped by to monitor Zabini’s performance over handling the Malfoy business – which, to his amazement, was still insanely flourishing under his management. He would also apparate back to his flat, much to Tippy’s relief and delight, and would even occasionally engage his personal house-elf in some mundane conversations. He would visit his mother in the Manor, too, but she was also so preoccupied with talking to his father’s portrait, and he didn’t want to disturb them at all. 

Potter and Granger’s words still niggled at the back of his mind, cajoling him to join them in the DMLE and become a Curse Breaker. And then one day, while all of them were away, he penned a letter to DMLE regarding his application as a Curse Breaker. Everything thereafter that was a blur and now, here he was, waiting for his turn to be interviewed by the department head. 

Draco still hadn’t told Hermione about his plans, in fear that she’d get too excited and worsen his nerves all the more. He was, after all, applying for his dream job, and he didn’t want her to see him crushed when he wouldn’t get accepted for the job. 

The door burst open and Draco straightened himself. The young witch called for a few more names, before closing the door behind her once more. He eyed those who were called in envy, knowing that their agony wouldn’t be prolonged anymore, before slumping down on his seat with a frown. 

Soon, Porky and more wizards and witches were called, and Draco was slowly growing panicky at the fact that he was the last person inside the Waiting Area. He pondered if he wasn’t able to schedule his appointment, then mentally cursing himself for not making sure about it in the first place. 

The humiliation in him was eating him inside and Draco was half-tempted to wrench the door open and bolt away from the ministry, never to repeat this ever again. 

But just when he was about to stand up and leave this room, the door burst open for the very last time. The young witch strode inside and eyed him in interest. 

“Mister Draco Malfoy?” she called, briefly glancing down on her parchment of notes. “Mister Davies is expecting you now.” 

His humiliation shriveled into dread, whilst stiffly nodding his head in reply. Draco mechanically followed the witch into the department head’s office, painfully aware of the loud pounding of his heart. He wondered if the witch, most likely Davies’ secretary, could loudly hear his heart from where she walked. 

She finally led him inside Davies’ office before leaving. Draco took that moment to scan the office, mildly surprised that it wasn’t that different from McLaggen’s. It was, however, homier and more inviting, with scattered pictures of his young family and occasional images of his coworkers. Draco spotted a picture of him, Hermione, and Harry, all waving enthusiastically at the camera with mugs of butterbeers in their hands. 

It was definitely obvious that Davies was beloved by this department. He wondered if working under him would be a pleasant change compared to working under McLaggen. 

“What are you doing there? Come sit down, lad!” 

Thomas’ voice boomed, prompting him to flinch in surprise. Draco’s sheepish eyes met Davies’ amused ones, before slowly strolling forward and lowering himself down on the chair opposite him. Eyes widening, he darted a glance at the awfully _comfortable_ chairs – McLaggen’s were always the bane of existence. No wonder McLaggen was insanely jealous of this department. 

“I see you finally took Granger and Potter’s advice and applied,” the older wizard said, directing Draco’s attention to him. 

The golden recommendation letters burned against his robe pockets once more. “I’ve given it some thought, yes,” he slowly said. “So, here I am.” 

Thomas made an odd sound at the back of his throat, now gazing through some parchments on his desk. Draco realized it was his resume, and some other documents he didn’t recognize. 

“Impressive NEWTs,” he pointed out. “The only person who can rival your scores is Hermione.” 

Draco smirked despite his nerves. “Of course,” he replied. “Brightest witch of her age.” 

Thomas smiled and sifted through the documents again. Draco waited with bated breath, wondering once more how this interview would end. He frowned as he remembered his disastrous interview with McLaggen in the DIMC, but shook his head, freeing himself from those thoughts. From what he deduced, Davies was _way_ different than McLaggen; perhaps, it was a blessing in disguise when he sat beside him in the St. Mungo’s teashop. 

Something in Davies’ eyes shifted and he sighed, letting go of all of Draco’s papers and setting them aside. A wave of panic welled up in his stomach, wondering if his Death Eater reports were wedged somewhere between the parchment. 

“Tell me, Draco,” Thomas slowly started. “Why do you want to become a Curse Breaker?” 

The question had caught him off guard, but he answered him nonetheless. “Well… I wanted to make a change,” he lamely replied. 

The older wizard’s eyes lit up in amusement and he smiled. “Everybody wants to achieve that, one way or another yes?” he asked in jest and leaned forward. “Even my five-year-old niece aspires to make a change in the world someday.” 

But Draco was already shaking his head, a small smile on his face. “No, no, I wanted to make a change in _myself_ ,” he protested. Davies lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything in return, so Draco continued. “I’ve… _well_ , I do admit I made some bad decisions when I was younger, but after the War…” He took a deep, staggering breath and met Davies’ attentive gaze. “I wanted to make amends.” 

“And you think being a Curse Breaker will achieve that?” he asked, slight surprise in his tone of voice. 

Draco shrugged his shoulders. “I have extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts,” he continued. “I know how to deactivate dark artifacts. Working with those bastards for _years_ made me somehow familiar with their thoughts, their character… the _booby traps_ they make…” His mind brought him back to the day of Rose’s rescue. 

Hardening his gaze and squaring his shoulders, he looked at Davies in the eye. “If I have to remove curses until the day I die to pay for all my misgivings, I gladly will,” he declared with all the seriousness he could muster. 

His declaration was met with surprising silence. Draco’s eyes slightly widened, thinking he might have gone a little overboard. But then, a slow, wide grin bloomed on Davies’ face and Draco was gobsmacked. 

“Well, in that case,” Thomas said, offering his right hand, “Welcome to the DMLE, Malfoy.” 

Draco blinked at the offered hand, jaw slackened in disbelief. Davies lifted an eyebrow and shook his hand a little, before Draco hurriedly took it. 

“T-that’s it?” he asked, still in disbelief. “But…” He rummaged inside his pocket and pulled out the recommendation letters he needed for application. “You still haven’t read these.” 

Thomas barked a laugh and grasped the letters. “Lad,” he started, “I’ve heard plenty of recommendations from Hermione _and_ Harry. I don’t think I need to read these to know that you are _good_. Besides, I read Potter’s report regarding Lestrange’s capture. I’m sure he relayed to you how I desperately wanted you on my team, right?” 

He was rendered speechless by the sudden turn of events, so he merely nodded his head in return. 

“Report back here next Monday,” the burly wizard continued. “Of course Curse Breakers have a different division from Aurors, but it is still best if everybody in the department knows about the newest addition in our team.” 

“R-right, of course,” he replied. 

Thomas gave him another wide smile and said, “You’ll be a great Curse Breaker, Malfoy. I can just _feel_ it.” Then, he made shooing motions with his hand. “Now, go. I actually didn’t plan for this meeting to take more than a _minute_ ” – Draco’s eyes widened more, if that was possible – “but it turned out to be more interesting that what I had originally thought.” 

Draco quickly scrambled onto his feet, his face flushed with excitement, gratitude, happiness, and all the positive emotions he could feel. “I…” His breath caught, still in disbelief.    

Davies chuckled. “You’re welcome, Malfoy,” he then replied and made more shooing gestures for him. 

Draco didn’t need to be told again as he darted out of the office, breathless beyond belief. 

He didn’t realize that Potter and Granger were already back from their mission until Hermione had assaulted him with excited eyes. 

“So? What happened?” she asked, already buzzing with unsuppressed mirth. Draco blinked, and then looked behind her to see Potter with a proud smirk on his face. 

“I’m… starting on Monday,” he said. A slow, wide grin appeared on his face as it finally sank in him. “So, I guess I’ll be seeing you more often?” 

Her smile was scintillating. “You’re coming over later, right?” she asked. “We have to have a celebratory dinner tonight.” 

Draco bit back a comment that _of course_ , he was coming over – he practically _lived_ in her flat already. There was already a dent shaped like him on the couch. Instead, he answered with a simple, “Okay.”

* * *

He was surprised to discover that night that the celebratory dinner for his acceptance in the DMLE was only between _them_. Hermione had forgotten amidst her excitement that she promised Rose she could sleepover with Ginny tonight. It made him slightly nervous, eating dinner with her in her home, _alone_ , but Hermione was vibrating with happiness at his expense. He pushed that ridiculous nervousness aside and enjoyed their dinner. 

The dinner was delicious and their conversations mostly revolved around safe, light topics. Hermione recounted her field mission today, and Draco found himself nodding his head, replying at the right time, and matching her expressions. 

It was, simply put, a _normal_ dinner.   

They were now lounging on the couch – _his_ couch, Merlin – and watching random cooking shows on the television. Draco was actually mesmerized with all the dishes the chef made, especially since he was using Muggle means to whip up those delectable dishes. Dinner had already ended an hour ago, but Draco could feel his mouth watering at all the colorful meals. 

“Draco?” 

He blinked and shifted his gaze away from the television. Hermione was already looking at him, a small smile on her face. “Yeah?” 

A small blush grazed her cheeks as she looked at her hands. “I just… well…” She paused and chuckled, absentmindedly tucking a curl behind her ear. “After all these months ever since that one, fateful Sunday night… I just…” She slowly lifted her head to look at him once more. Draco took a sharp intake of breath, her eyes bright like starlight. “I’ve seen you work so hard and I think you have the right to know that I’m… I’m really proud of you. Truly, _desperately_ proud of you.” 

Something warm grew in his stomach and crawled up to his heart. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. It actually felt nice, and Draco didn’t realize he was holding his breath. 

“You’re going to be wonderful Curse Breaker,” she said with utmost conviction. “I just _know_ it. And if somebody speaks the otherwise, well, they’ll have to get through me first.” 

His heart hummed as he grinned widely. “You can’t win my battles for me, Granger,” he reminded her, but Hermione merely shook her head. 

“But you can’t win them _alone_ , too. I won’t allow it.” 

The resolve in her eyes was enough to warm his heart. “I wish Rose was here to know that I got accepted in the ministry,” he continued, chuckling at the thought of the sweet child. “She’d be thrilled that she’ll see me more often.” He made a face and shook his head. “She was constantly complaining about her daycare, pointing out that I’m right here and I can _babysit_ her.” 

“Rose loves you very much,” Hermione supplemented softly. 

Draco lifted an eyebrow. “What’s that I detect?” he teased, a playful smirk on his face. “Are you jealous that your daughter loves me more than you, Hermione?” 

She playfully smacked his arm. “You wish,” she said. “I was the one who brought her into this world. It’s only natural that we have a stronger bond.” 

“Don’t worry,” he said, his smirk morphing into a grin. “I can learn to share. I can also teach Rose to pretend that she loves you more when you’re in the vicinity.” 

“You will do no such thing, Draco Malfoy!” she scolded with a gasp. 

A loud laugh escaped from him, eyes shining as he looked at Hermione. Her affront melted into mild amusement, before she joined him in laughter. 

“Blimey,” the blond said, “if you told me I’d be babysitting your daughter while you travel around and save the world, I’d say you were barmy and send you straight to St. Mungo’s.” 

“Oh, admit it was the best thing that had ever happened to you,” she retorted. “If I haven’t entrusted you with my daughter, your life would still be the same, boring one.” 

Draco smiled widely, catching her off guard. He knew she expected him to retort something witty, to dispute her claim, but he was far too happy today. “You’re right,” he said with a sigh. “Rose might probably be the best thing that had ever happened to me.” 

He shifted on his seat and leant his head against the couch, eyes shining as he continued to look at the strangely quiet witch. “I… really haven’t thanked you for barging into my flat a few months ago, have I?” Draco murmured. “You’re always the one thanking me, _for everything_ , but… but you have no absolute idea how grateful I am that you chose me to take care of Rose.” 

Draco sighed, his eyes drooping close, and continued, “Thank you, Hermione, _for everything_. You always yammered that you can see me exerting enough effort to change for the better. But, you don’t know that without Rose… without _you_ … I don’t think–“ 

His words died down as she pressed her lips against his. Draco’s eyes flew open in shock, very much awake now. 

“W-wh -” 

His mouth ran dry when Hermione shakily placed a hand against his cheek. Draco’s breathing turned erratic when Hermione prettily smiled at him, her cheeks splattered with red and her eyes alit with emotions that had made his heart beat faster. 

“I must confess,” she started, “I have really been meaning to do that for quite some time now.” She blinked, and as an afterthought, she added, “Oh, Rose will be thrilled about this. I’m sure of it.”   

He took a sharp intake of breath. “If…” Draco rasped out. “If you’re doing this just so Rose may have a father, I-“ 

Hermione silenced him once more with a brief peck on his lips. 

There was something in her eyes, an emotion he often saw when Hermione gazed at Rose, Potter, and Ginny. Heck, he also saw that emotion in her eyes on the day they visited her ex-husband’s grave. And to see it while she was looking at him… There was something else, too – something _more_ – and Draco couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“I’m doing this for me.” 

Something in him snapped as he reached out her for and pulled her with a gentle force. Hermione yelped in surprise, but Draco easily caught her with a dazzling grin. Before Hermione could recover, his lips were upon hers, hungrily relaying all the repressed feelings he had for her ever since forever. She matched his kisses with equal fervor until their kisses turned into slow, sweet pecks before Hermione completely pulled away. 

They stared at each other for minutes or perhaps for an eternity. Her eyes were shining bright with happiness and affection and Draco couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to receive that fond gaze. 

Reaching out, he tucked another stubborn curl behind her ear and grinned. “This is starting to be the best day of my life,” he confessed. Loud, infectious laughter burst out from Hermione’s lips, prompting his grin to widen. He placed a hand at the back of her neck and pulled her down, bringing his lips against hers once more. 

* * *

Hermione twitched awake and sleepily batted a hand away. Somebody was trying to rouse her from her sleep and she moaned in protest. Her bed was so warm and soft, and the constant, low beating of something behind her lulled and comforted her. 

Shifting slightly, she sighed when warm arms tightened around her and pulled her closer. 

 _‘Wait… arms?’_ she groggily thought with a frown. _‘Since when did my bed have arms?’_

Somebody was shaking her awake once more. Grumpily, her eyes flew open to glare at the person who disturbed her wonderful sleep, only to see her grinning daughter. Ginny stood behind her, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement and that was when Hermione realized she didn’t sleep on her bed. 

The arms around her stirred and she stiffened, slowly craning her head to see Draco’s sleeping face. Hermione sat up with a gasp, successfully jerking Draco awake. A deep, slow blush crept on her face as she sheepishly turned to Ginny and Rose. 

“Good morning, Mama, Draco!” Rose greeted with an enthusiastic wave of her hand. “Did you miss me?” 

The memory of last night came crashing back to her, of locked lips and wandering hands, and Hermione had fervently thanked Merlin they were only snogging last night. If things had escalated quickly… _well_ , she would have no face to show her sweet, innocent daughter. 

Cheeks still warm, she darted a look at Draco, who was wearing a proud, wide smirk on his face, like he had won the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione scowled when Ginny mirrored his expression. 

“Had a good night?” Ginny drawled, raising a suggestive eyebrow at their mused up appearance. Hermione bet her lips looked as swollen as it felt and tried desperately to pat her wild mane to some semblance of normalcy. 

She jerked, felt Draco’s comforting squeeze on her hip, before he stood up from the couch. Hermione willed her arms to stay in place so as not to grab him back on the couch with her. Admittedly, he looked _smashing_ with his bedroom hair and sleepy eyes; the handsome smirk on his face wasn’t helping at all too. 

“A wonderful night actually,” Draco replied, running a hand through his hair. Hermione’s hand twitched, remembering the feel of his hair in her hands last night, and sighed petulantly. 

Draco then lifted Rose into his arms, producing surprised giggles from the child. “I have excellent news for you, Rosie!” he exclaimed. “I’m going to work in the ministry again.” 

Rose’s eyes rounded in shock, before she threw her arms around his neck. “Really?” she cried with joy. 

“I heard Davies accepted you in a heartbeat,” Ginny said, her smirk melting into a small smile at Rose’s antics. “Congratulations, Malfoy.” 

Draco grinned in reply. “Thanks, Weasley,” he said. 

Ginny nodded her head, and then looked between her and Draco. Her eyes glinted in mischief, prompting Hermione to scowl. “Come, Rosie,” her aunt said, a slow, wicked grin forming on her face. “Do you want to prepare breakfast for your mother and Draco?” 

Rose squirmed in his arms, so Draco had no choice but to lower her on the floor. “Okay!” she cried, running towards Ginny. They both disappeared into the kitchens, but not before she heard her daughter ask, “Will Draco be my Daddy soon?” 

Hermione’s eyes had widened in horror and embarrassment. She couldn’t turn her gaze to Draco, knowing that he had also perfectly heard her daughter’s question. 

“She asked me about that one time too, you know.” 

Her gaze finally snapped back at him, and she could see that he was looking at her carefully, as if trying to gauge her reaction. Hermione opened and closed her mouth, at a loss of what to say, but Draco merely chuckled and shook his head. 

“Merlin, Hermione, we’ll take this one step at a time,” he promised, reaching out his hand. 

Her heart jumped to her throat as she gazed at his hopeful eyes, and slowly, she placed her hand on his. His grip was warm and tight and Hermione almost blurted that she was most likely bloody well in love with him and making him Rose’s new father wasn’t a bad idea at all. 

Draco pulled her closer and grinned, now holding both of her cheeks lovingly. 

“One step at a time,” she repeated, eyes already fluttering close. 

“One step at a time,” he reaffirmed, finally closing the distance between them. 

It would be one hell of a journey. She was quite sure of that.

* * *

Rose was humming a happy tune as they meandered through the ministry to bring her to the daycare. Draco smiled, recognizing the tune from one of her favorite cartoons on the television, and held onto her hand tighter. Her other hand was held by her mother, who was lovingly smiling down at her daughter. 

“What’s got you awfully cheery today?” he asked, amused that Rose started to swing both of her arms. 

“Nothing,” she happily replied. 

Draco darted an amused glance at Hermione. She merely shrugged her shoulders, grinned wider, and fondly ran her free hand through her daughter’s curls. 

Throughout their journey, Draco recognized some familiar faces of his colleagues and inclined his head in greeting. A week had already passed ever since he started in the DMLE. Although most of his days were spent on trainings and seminars, he had never been happier in his new job. 

He was able to come across McLaggen one time, who merely sneered at him and walked away. Draco had a sick sense of smugness, knowing that despite his resignation from the DIMC, his proposal was still on the way. From what he had heard from Reggie the Secretary, McLaggen had begrudgingly accepted that they really need to cut back on their travel budget for other important matters – such as the _swiveling chairs_ – and Draco felt very proud of himself. 

“Harry told me you’ll have your first field mission today,” Hermione said. 

He smiled at the worry lines on her forehead. “Yes,” he replied. “Relax, Hermione. We’re just going to raid some hideouts. Besides, Potter will be there.” 

Hermione frowned a little. “Still, be careful,” she warned. 

“Yes, _Mother_.” 

She gave him a withering glare, but thankfully didn’t retort anything in return. 

They finally arrived in the ministry daycare. Rose pulled her hands away from their grips and turned around. “Can we go to Florean’s today?” she hopefully asked. “He promised he’ll give me free tastes.” 

“Not today, menace,” Draco said, placing a hand on top of her head. Rose made a face and shook his heavy hand away. “I’ve got some work today.” A small frown bloomed on Rose’s face, and Draco immediately added, “But we can go this Saturday. If, _well_ , your mother agrees.” 

Both of them questioningly looked at Hermione, who had no choice but to sigh in resignation and sullenly nod her head. Draco knew that as a daughter of dentists, she was still having a hard time indulging her daughter with sweets. 

“Anyway, I’ve got to scat,” he said, briefly looking at his wristwatch. “I’ll be back to fetch you at 5:00 pm, Rose. _No_ extensions.” 

“Aww, you’re no fun.” She stuck out her tongue at him, which he replied by pinching her cheek. Then, to her mother, she opened her arms wide and waited for Hermione to envelope her into a big hug. “Goodbye, Mama. I love you!” 

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” Hermione said, dropping a kiss on her forehead. 

“Goodbye, menace, and be good.” 

Hermione laughed and straightened up, before grabbing onto his hand to leave the daycare. 

“Draco!” 

Both of the adults turned their heads at the little redhead. Hermione looked at him questioningly, but Draco merely shrugged in reply. 

He untangled his hand from hers and strode closer to Rose. She beckoned him to get closer, a conspiratorial smile on her face, and he had no choice but to kneel down to match her height. She giggled and cupped her hand against her mouth and whispered against his ear, “I love you the most, Draco, but shh don’t tell Mama!” 

Rose giggled once more and ran away from him towards her playmates. 

A stupid grin appeared on his face as he stood up. Hermione was looking at him strangely and questioningly, but he merely shook his head and laced his fingers with hers once more. 

“What did she say?” 

“Nothing,” he hastily replied, his grin widening. Hermione would be crushed if she discovered he successfully snagged her daughter away from her. Despite her glower, he didn’t budge. Instead, he looked around the corridor, smirking when he realized that they were the only ones present. 

Without warning, he tugged her closer and placed a quick kiss on her lips. Pink flooded her cheeks and she shyly smiled at him. 

Wordlessly, he held onto her hands once more as they walked back to the DMLE. 

As her hand tightened around him, he sighed and thought, _‘I could do this every day.’_ Bringing her daughter to the daycare, walking hand-in-hand with Hermione, stealing kisses when people weren’t looking… it was everything he had ever wanted and Draco was still in disbelief. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered to her, before they mingled with the swarming crowd near the lift. 

Hermione frowned at him. “Don’t say that,” she scolded, her hold on him tightening. “You deserve all the happiness and… and l-love like any other person.” 

His heart thudded at her stutter and couldn’t help but widely grin. Reaching out, he lightly brushed his fingers against her cheeks. “Thank you, Hermione. _For everything_ ,” he whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. 

With her eyes shining brightly and her lips stretched into a lovely smile, he once again thought, _‘Yes, I could do this every day.’_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, just so you know!


	27. The Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to the last chapter! And as what the title states, this chapter will contain a series of flashbacks. Enjoy!

* * *

  _Light_

* * *

“We need to _fucking_ leave.” 

Draco tiredly blinked at him as he shrugged off his Death Eater robes and mask. Glancing at the wall clock in his bedroom in the manor, he noted that it was already three in the morning. 

“Where do you want to go at this time of the day?” he asked, plopping down on his bed. Draco closed his eyes and started to clear his thoughts, numbing himself away from the events that had happened earlier. 

They were summoned to a Death Eater revel in celebration of another ‘victorious’ infiltration of an Order safe house. Although not really a fan of these revels, the Dark Lord thought it would be fitting to award his most faithful servants by letting them do whatever they liked to do during days of rest. Seeing that they were the sickest bastards Draco had ever met, his _brethren_ thought pillaging Muggle villages, ransacking their houses, killing and raping and torturing were the best ways to spend their ‘rest days’. 

Sneering, Draco forced himself to numb his feelings away until all he could feel was… nothing. 

“No, dammit, Draco,” Theo continued. “As in _leave_. This life. This place.  _Everything_.” 

His eyes popped open in clear disbelief. “What the hell, Nott?” he snarled, immediately sitting up from his bed and clutching his wand. He nervously looked at his bedroom door, half-expecting Bellatrix to burst inside and blast them off for even thinking about leaving. 

“Draco,” his best friend said, striding forward and gripping the blond by his shoulders. “I can see it in you. You want to fucking leave, too.” 

Draco scowled and was unable to retort something in return. He was, after all, right. 

“We should stop kidding ourselves and start making the right choice.” 

“By betraying the Dark Lord?” Draco thundered and pushed Theo away. “Are you out of your damn mind, Theo? He’ll kill us; _mercilessly_ kill us, if he even got wind of what we are talking about right now.” 

Theo’s face helplessly crumpled as he ran a hand through his hair. Draco was driven to look away, unused to the expression on his normally carefree friend. But then again, ever since the war had been at its peak, carefree, quiet Theodore Nott was but a memory for eighteen-year-old Draco Malfoy. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Draco. I just… I can’t.” Theo expelled a weary sigh and sunk down on the chair beside the bed. “Please tell me it isn’t just me. _Please_. I can’t pretend anymore that what we are doing is right. Our fucking revel a while ago was the last straw. When Greyback… what he did to that little girl, I -” Theo’s breath hitched and he paled. 

Draco shivered with the memory and turned his face away from Theo. “I can’t leave,” he finally whispered. 

“Yes, you can!” Theo exclaimed, jumping out of his seat to force Draco to look at him. “I know that the only reason you stayed was because of your mother, Draco.” 

“Don’t you _dare_ fucking bring my mother in this ridiculous conversation-” 

“YOU CAN’T PROTECT HER HERE!” 

Draco’s jaw dropped at Theo’s declaration, his breath turning ragged and shallow. Theo’s face clouded with guilt at his outburst, but his jaw was set with determination. Slowly, Theo sagged down on the bed beside him and looked at him squarely in his eyes. “You can’t protect your mother here,” he repeated, this time quieter and calmer. 

“You don’t know what the fuck you are talking about,” the blond snarled, whipping his wand underneath Theo’s chin. 

“Let’s face it, Draco, this… this _bloody_ madness isn’t healthy for your mother anymore, especially after your father’s… death.” Draco bared his teeth in anger, but Theo wasn’t finished. “The Order… I think they can help her better. Narcissa will be safer under the Order’s care rather than surrounded by a bunch of Death Eaters.” 

Draco’s lips thinned with barely suppressed rage, but Theo egged on. 

“We know a lot about the Death Eater plans,” he reasoned out. “I know we’re not exactly the most trustworthy of the lot, but the Order is already being desperate to bring down the Dark Lord. They’ll take whatever they can.” 

“That’s a fucking optimistic thought, Nott,” Draco snarled with dripping sarcasm. He was, however, already lowering his wand. 

Theo blew a frustrated breath and gingerly placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I want this war to end already, Draco,” he whispered like a secret, sounding like a lost, vulnerable child. “I want all of this madness to _fucking_ end. If you don’t want to defect with me, _fine_ , but I’m still going to do it and you’re not going to stop me.” 

Draco balled his hands into fists, conflicting emotions battling in his mind and heart. Throughout all the confusion, Narcissa’s face stood out among them all and Draco desperately, _desperately_ wanted to know what to do to protect his mother. 

“They’ll kill us,” he dully replied, panic rising in his chest at the prospect of really leaving their Death Eater ways.   

Theo flashed a brilliant smile despite Draco’s morbid words, not missing how he said ‘us’ instead of ‘you’. “Not without my consent, those bastards,” he said, already sounding a tad too giddy for Draco’s liking. 

“No, damn it, _you’re_ going to get us killed,” Draco snapped in reply. His heart thudded loudly in his chest as adrenaline rushed through his veins and blood pumped to his ears. 

“The Order will love us, I promise,” Theo said with a cheeky grin. Draco promptly snorted, highly doubting that the people he had hexed and cursed for all of his teenage life would welcome them with open arms. Most especially _him_ – Albus Dumbledore’s Almost Murderer. “How could they not when we bring glad tidings?” 

Draco expelled a deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What is your plan then?” he demanded. 

Theo sheepishly frowned. “Well… I was hoping you’ll help me?” 

“You don’t have a concrete plan yet?” Draco thundered, sheer disbelief on his face. 

“I fucking plan to run away from here, so that’s a start.” 

Draco took a shuddering breath and wearily ran a hand through his face. “You’re going to get us both killed,” he muttered once more. Slumping on his vast bed, he tiredly closed his eyes. “Leave me be for now, Theo. I need to think about a lot of things.” 

He heard his best friend sigh and felt his bed shift as Theo stood up. 

“You know… Granger will be there.” 

His eyes flew open in confusion and disbelief. “Why the hell does that even matter?” he snapped, ignoring how his heart sped up a little too quickly for his own liking. 

Theo merely gave him a pointed look and sighed. “I thought that might help your decision a little,” he confessed. Draco’s jaw dropped in rage, but no words flew out form his mouth. 

He heard Theo sigh once more and watched him until he was mere meters from his bedroom door. 

The Nott heir then slowly turned around, his eyes glinting in the dark room. “Think about this conversation very hard, Draco. This might just be the best fucking decision you have ever made.”

* * *

_Trust_

* * *

“Are you even listening to me?” Draco snapped in a low whisper, annoyed that Hermione’s eyes had glossed over one too many times as he ran over their important mission today. He was already stressed beyond belief and he just wanted to go back home… _well_ , back to Grimmauld Place, if that was even home to him at all. 

Hermione had the decency to look a little abashed, but there was also something in her expression, too, that did not sit quite well with Draco. 

Scowling, he stood up from his make-shift cot and started to pace the great length of their tent. 

“Look, Malfoy, I’m sorry,” she hastily snapped, her eyes never leaving his pacing form. “I’m just a little… distracted.” 

“Distracted?” he thundered, finally skidding in front of her seated form. He towered over her and looked as menacing as he could. To his sheer surprise (and disgruntlement), she shriveled a little from his piercing gaze and looked away. Draco instantly knew that there was _definitely_ something wrong; Granger refused to back away from his monumental tantrums, no matter how ridiculous they were. 

“We cannot afford to get fucking distracted today, Granger!” 

Her face crumpled in annoyance. “I know that,” she snapped. “I just…” Her annoyance disappeared, but she still refused to look back at him. “I think I just need some rest.” 

He expelled a disgruntled sigh and stalked away from the tent. She was supposed to stand guard this time and let him rest. But there was something in her eyes that compelled him to relent, no matter how much he was angry with her right now. Granger _never_ got distracted in their missions; she was always stupidly alert and ready. Sometimes, Draco had a hard time keeping up, not really used to hiding in tents and running around. Granger had a lot of practice during their 7thyear – _well_ , his 7thyear - since Granger and the Idiots were on the run that time. 

Somehow, it scared him a little that her head wasn’t in this mission fully. He felt something disastrous was about to happen. Although their mission was simple, Draco couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was bound to happen. 

As he settled on a fallen log near the entrance of the tent, Draco tried to distract himself by reading one of Granger’s books she always brought in their missions. She was fiercely protective of her books - that much he deduced during the start of their reluctant partnership. When she grudgingly offered one of her books to him one time, he knew it was a way for her to extend the proverbial olive branch. Ever since then, they had established a truce that was long overdue, especially because McGonagall had this stupid idea that they worked really well together, despite their clashing tempers. 

While he was on a particularly gripping part of the book, Draco frowned when he heard unmistakable sniffles. Alarmed, he scooted closer to the tent, wondering if he was merely imagining things during his sleep-deprived state. He gripped the small flap of the tent and peeked inside. His heart fell to his stomach when he heard Granger’s soft sobs in the dark tent. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

 **-o-**  

Granger shook him awake when the sun was already rising from the horizon. Draco lightly colored, ashamed that he had fallen asleep when he was supposed to be standing guard for the both of them. 

“I… I’m sorry,” she sputtered out, cheeks also coloring slightly. Draco’s eyes widened in disbelief. “It was my turn last night. I’m sorry.” 

Despite his fuzzy head, he recalled the soft sobs that tore through her mouth yesterday and looked away. “It doesn’t matter, Granger,” he said with a heavy sigh. Draco rubbed his heavy eyes and took a deep breath. 

“You should get some more sleep.” 

Draco shook his head. “There’s no more time,” he said, languidly standing up from the uncomfortable log and stretched luxuriously. “We should go over the plan again.” 

She hesitated a bit, before finally nodding her head. 

Their mission was simple – smuggle some plans from a Death Eater hideout. This hideout was usually crawling with the highest ranking Death Eaters. However, an intel told them that the Dark Lord had called for a big meeting tonight and wanted all his best Death Eaters to attend.

The Order reckoned that something big was about to happen, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had bet these plans would be found in the usually heavily guarded hideout. With all the best Death Eaters away, only lower ranking Death Eaters would most likely stand guard to the place. McGonagall thought it was a stupid suicide mission, but Shacklebolt stood his ground. If something big was to happen, the best that they could do was to at least know what it was and be prepared. 

At least five pairs were designated in certain places surrounding the hideout. Potter and Nott were paired together and Draco was still envious that they got to stay incognito in a nearby village, with _beds_ , while he was stuck in a bloody forest with Granger as his partner. Weasley and his fiery sister were also stationed somewhere. He didn’t exactly know personally the other two pairs, but Draco didn’t bother knowing who they were anyway. He and Granger probably had the most important part in this mission, which was to get the plans themselves. The other pairs were just there to back them up while they blindly searched for them. 

“ _Fucking hell,_ Granger!” he hollered once more, noticing that she was once more distracted. “If you honestly don’t give a flying fuck about this mission, then I suggest you just leave. I can do this myself. Portkey your bloody ass away from here or you’d both get us _killed_.” 

He was tired and stressed; he knew it was a bad idea to blow up at her. He braced himself for one of her terrible tirades, but when none came, Draco had had enough of her strange behavior. 

“Granger,” he said in exasperation, panicking at how her eyes welled with tears. He never, _never_ made her cry because of his temper. Granger usually bit his head off with one of her snarkier rebuttals, which Theo once teased he secretly enjoyed. “If you’re going to seriously jeopardize this mission, I think it’s really best if you just leave. I mean it.” 

His fiery temper had simmered a little when she haphazardly wiped her tears away. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I should focus more.” 

Draco sighed and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. He could deal with angry Granger. A crying Granger… _well_ , this was something new to him. 

“What’s got you distracted anyway?” 

He wasn’t expecting an answer, to be honest. Granger had never fully trusted him to confide to him yet. He bloody trusted her, all right. Despite the bad blood, they were now partners, and Granger had too much of a moral fiber to betray him. Draco didn’t really fault her for thinking he’d one day betray herinstead. 

This was why he wasn’t really ready with her answer. 

“I… Malfoy, I’m pregnant.” 

Gobsmacked, Draco backpedaled and stared down at her in horror. Panic and awe flittered her face, and she was openly crying this time, not even bothering to wipe her tears away. 

“W-what?” 

“I’m pregnant,” she said with more strength. “I just found out before we left and…” 

“Whose?” he sputtered out, then mentally smacking himself after. The answer was sodding obvious, which was why he never really understood why his heart leapt to his throat when she answered it was Ronald Weasley. It was plain to see that two were head over heels in love with each other. Draco always excused himself when the two were in the room together. Theo would appear soon after, a look of understanding on his face, but never commenting anything at all. It was one thing he really liked about Theo, even though he mostly annoyed the hell out of him. 

“You should go,” Draco ordered once he got over the shock. “Leave. This mission is too dangerous for you already.” 

Her eyes flashed as she defiantly lifted her chin. Well, this Granger he could bloody well handle. “No,” she grounded out. “I’m already here. I just can’t leave you alone when our task is the most important in this whole mission.” 

“Well, you fucking got yourself knocked up so this changes _everything_.” Draco pulled out his wand and she warily gazed at it. “I’m sending McGonagall a Patronus and -” 

“NO!” she exclaimed and grabbed onto his magical stick. Draco growled and tried to shake her off, but she held on tighter. “No, it’s _dangerous_. If you send a Patronus, the Death Eaters might see. You’d botch the whole plan.” 

“Your pregnancy _botched_ the whole damn thing, Granger.” He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. She looked like he might as well have slapped her as she protectively curled a hand around her stomach. More tears stumbled down from her eyes and she looked away. 

“It was stupid of us, I know,” she muttered quietly and Draco wished that she would at least shout at him. “It was stupid of us for even forgetting a simple contraception spell and consequently bringing forth a child in this cruel, chaotic world. 

“Granger -” 

“ _Don’t_ ,” she warned, glaring at him darkly through her watery eyes. “Don’t you even dare apologize, because you were _right_. The whole plan is ruined because I’m now a liability.” 

“I didn’t say that. I -” 

“But I can’t bloody leave you right here, right now, can I?” she snapped. Draco’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “I’m your _bloody_ partner, Malfoy. If I leave, I can’t rest easy knowing I left you behind. If… if something happened to you, I will never forgive myself.” 

It was a surprising admission; one Draco never thought he would ever hear from her. He knew she wasn’t exactly thrilled they were always paired together. He had once caught her complaining to McGonagall and Shacklebolt to pair her with anyone, even bloody Nott, but not _him_. There was just too much history between the two of them. 

“But… but your child…” 

“Tonks had Teddy, but she was still sent to missions,” she reasoned out. “Remus wasn’t exactly thrilled but… I finally understood why she insisted.” Granger ran a weary hand through her tangled curls and sighed. “I just… I can’t just sit still, knowing I can do something to finally make this world a better one for my future… child.” Her eyes were sparkling as she placed a gentle hand against her stomach. “There might be a time I cannot go to missions, but I know I still can go now. So don’t you _fucking_ dare insinuate that I should go back, Malfoy. I might have been admittedly distracted, but Merlin! A child!” A giddy laugh escaped from her lips; Draco thought she was mental. 

“Does Weasley know? Potter?” 

The smile on her face disappeared as she slowly shook her head. “There was no time,” she said. “We were sent immediately after I found out.” 

“This mission is dangerous, Granger,” he pointed out. 

“I know.” 

“What if -” 

Hermione sighed, a small smile on her face. “Then, we must both make sure we get back alive, Malfoy,” she replied. “It’s really very simple.” 

Draco glared. It was not simple. It was _never_ simple. 

She pulled out her wand and waved it around. The time hovered at the tip, before she waved her wand once more. “The time is near,” she announced. “We should get ready to sneak in soon.” 

 **-o-**  

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” Draco angrily whispered as he gripped Hermione’s arm and pulled her away. There were shrill alarms resounding in the whole hideout, mingled with the unmistakable footsteps of the Death Eaters. 

Glancing around, Draco quickly shoved Granger into a small alcove and held his breath. It was a narrow hiding place and Granger’s hair was tickling his nose. She was bent in an awkward angle, her head pressed tightly against his chest; he wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear his loudly beating heart. Their limbs were a tangled mess, and Draco’s right leg was already protesting from the disturbed blood circulation, but he didn’t dare move until all the footsteps had gone. 

He quickly stumbled out and almost fell on the floor once the coast was clear. Granger was unfortunate and had fallen on all fours, glaring darkly at Draco. He fiercely returned her glare with his own, effortlessly pulling her back onto her feet. 

“I told you to fuckingstay put,” he hissed, tightly gripping his wand and scanning around. The alarms were still going off, but there was no sign of Death Eaters around. Somewhere, he could hear a battle, but it was too far from where he and Hermione were. 

“We cannot afford to bloody stay put, Malfoy,” she snapped. Waving her wand, a timer was projected from the tip, announcing that they only have twenty more minutes before the portkeys were activated. “We’re running out of time.” 

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and turned away. Draco was tempted to blow up at her once more for triggering a booby trap, but like what she had said, they were running out of time. He would give her a piece of his mind later once they got away from this place. 

Draco ran as fast as he could, with Hermione steadily following him from behind. They dashed through the stairs and finally skidded in front of a heavily guarded room. Hermione pushed Draco aside and murmured incantations under her breath. The door shimmered and pulsed, sparks of electricity crackling, until there were none. Hermione directed her wand against the door, whispered a soft _‘Alohomora’_ , and proudly grinned to herself when the door clicked open. 

“Show-off,” he murmured under his breath. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and pulled the door open, wands poised for battle. 

The room reeked of residual dark magic, and Draco instantly knew _this_ was the room. Judging from Hermione’s face, he knew she could also feel the evilness inside. Lifting up his wand, he waved it and whispered a soft, “ _Accio plans_.” 

When nothing flew into his hands, Hermione snorted. “Right, Malfoy, I can’t believe you thought that would work.” 

“It was worth a try,” he snapped, glaring at her bemused face. 

“You weren’t being _specific_ ,” she stated matter-of-factly, sounding like the swotty first year she had always been. “So of course you’ve just wasted your time.” 

Sighing irately, Draco scanned the room and was dismayed with how impeccable the room was. It was obviously well-kept and heavily guarded. “What do you reckon we do now?” he softly asked, warily gazing at the numerous drawers around. 

She bit her bottom lip and deeply thought. “Grab whatever parchment we could find and get the hell away from here,” she finally answered. 

Draco looked highly skeptical. “That’s it?” he inquired. “And risk not getting the real plans?” 

“This is a _highly_ guarded room,” she snapped. “I can bet that whatever document we find will prove useful for the Order.” 

She had a point, prompting him to frown. “Fine,” he said. He then gestured for her to take the right side, while he scoured the left. 

They pulled drawers in haste and Draco grabbed as many important-looking files as he could get. He was probably on his fifth drawer, skimming through the ancient parchments, when a blast of green light blinded him momentarily. Instantly on his feet, Draco gripped his wand tighter and sneered at the six Death Eaters that infiltrated the room. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Malfoy.” 

His sneer darkened, recognizing the voice of Marcus Flint. From beside him, Hermione had shouted a Disarming Spell and it was the trigger needed for an exchange of frenzied spells to commence. 

Draco hastily pocketed the documents he had and blasted the Death Eaters to and fro. He was eternally grateful Voldemort had called for his strongest followers; these were just a bunch of wimps he could easily subdue. 

Glancing towards Granger, he could see that she was holding up her own. Her free arm was curled protectively around her stomach, though, and she was slowly getting distracted from her opponent. Flint, who was battling Granger, exclaimed a particularly dark curse and Draco watched in horror as Granger tripped on the table and fell on her knees. 

He wasn’t thinking properly when he jumped in front and shielded her from the spell. Granger shrieked his name from behind, but all he could feel was unbelievable pain. Draco crumbled on the ground and twitched uncontrollably. Granger’s tearful face swam into vision, before she viciously Reducto-ed Flint away. 

“What the hell, Malfoy?!” she shrilly exclaimed, crawling towards him. Draco wasn’t entirely sure what the spell did to him. Looking at her panicked face, though, he knew he didn’t look too good. “We’re going to Portkey away from here _now_.” 

“But the documents -” 

“ _Damn it_ , Malfoy, you’re injured!” She then fished out the Portkey disguised as a butterbeer cork from her pockets. It violently shook, signaling its activation. Hermione grabbed onto his arm and soon, he felt the familiar sensation of the Portkey. 

 **-o-**  

The first thing he felt when he came around was pain. Draco grimaced and blinked his eyes open, taking him a few minutes to recognize his moldy room he shared with Theo in Grimmauld Place. _‘So, I’m alive,’_ he thought, amused that he truthfully felt like he would die back in that Death Eater hideout. 

He tried to sit up but flinched when a dull pain surged through his left arm. Frowning, he glanced at it and saw it wrapped in bandages. Draco tried to poke the bandage and hissed, the dull pain turning sharp and almost blinding him. 

“You’re not supposed to poke your wounds, you know.” 

Draco’s eyes widened as they settled on Granger seated on one of the overstuffed couches in the room. She stood up and quickly helped him until he was settled against the headboard. 

“Water,” he whispered, voice cracking from disuse. Hermione instantly summoned a glass of water and helped him in drinking. “How long was I out?” 

“Three days and a half,” she whispered in reply. 

“That long?” he gasped. No wonder he felt weak and tired. 

Granger’s lips thinned as she curtly nodded her head. 

“Was the mission a success?” he asked, scooting a bit to the left to let her plop down on the bed beside him. 

“Maybe,” she said, a tad distracted. “We found some transactions in the Lestrange vault regarding a suspicious artifact that might have belonged to Helga Hufflepuff.” 

His eyes bulged out. “A horcrux?” 

She nodded and slightly smiled. “Most likely,” she said. “Harry, Ron, and Luna were sent there today by Shacklebolt.” 

“That’s all?” he asked, hoping that they were able to discover more to finally stop Voldemort. 

“We discovered his snake is also a horcrux,” she continued. “And we also found out that Ravenclaw’s treasure is lost somewhere in Hogwarts.” 

It finally made sense. Slytherin’s locket and Hufflepuff’s cup. “Ravenclaw’s diadem,” he slowly said with a mixture of awe and disgust. Trust Voldemort to defile the most prized possessions of the Founders. “We should get to Hogwarts and destroy that already.” 

“Lupin, Ginny, and Nott are already there.” 

His eyebrows almost disappeared behind his fringes. “And why are _you_ here?” he inquired. “I’m sure you don’t like to be left behind, waiting around.” 

A frustrated expression bloomed on her face and she slumped down. “They found out,” she confessed. “About my pregnancy.” 

Draco started. He almost forgot about that significant detail. “And?” 

“And of course they were ecstatic,” she snapped in frustration. “Predictably, Harry and Ron forbade me from accompanying anyone to destroy the horcruxes. I reasoned out that Tonks was able to go to missions despite carrying Teddy but _they_ reasoned out that we are dealing with _horcruxes_ this time. I mean, honestly. I’m barely showing!” 

He smirked, imagining one hell of a fight between the Golden Trio. He was almost sorry he was unconscious when she finally broke the news to them. “So, I believe you’ll be having desk duties instead?” he cheekily asked. Although undeniably great with strategizing, he knew Hermione would rather be in the field than cooped up in this moldy, stinky headquarters. 

“Don’t start, Malfoy,” she warned, glowering. 

He lifted his arms as a sign of backing down. He momentarily forgot about his injury, though, and hissed in pain. Draco cradled his left arm against his chest and scowled. 

“That was very stupid of you, you know.” 

“Thanks, Granger, really,” he snarled sarcastically, shooting her a glare. To his surprise, however, there were tears brimming in her eyes. 

“It was a very dark curse, Malfoy,” she continued, oblivious to the tears now sliding down her cheeks. “Grown wizards and witches need at least a week to recuperate back. But if a baby…” She wordlessly placed a hand against her stomach and Draco understood. If he didn’t stupidly shield Granger from that dark curse, she might have lost her baby before she could even tell the others about the news. 

Strangely, the dull pain in his arm didn’t bother him anymore. 

“I just…” She daintily sniffed and offered him a bright, grateful smile. “Thank you… Draco. May I call you that?” 

His heart sped up a little at how his name sounded from her lips. “Yeah,” he said, almost breathlessly. “Whatever.” 

“Thank you, Draco,” she repeated. “For… for _everything_. If it wasn’t for you, I might…” Her breath hitched, unable to utter the possibility of losing her child. 

To his utmost surprise, Hermione reached out for his uninjured arm and gave it a grateful squeeze. “You saved my baby’s life. Thank you.” 

His throat clotted with nerves, but he managed to give her one of his small, rare smiles.

* * *

_Rose_

* * *

The War was finally over. 

The Light had lost too much; Hermione had already lost count at how many lifeless bodies she saw strewn haphazardly on the red-soaked floors of her beloved Hogwarts. Her heart still terribly ached at the looks of the Weasley clan when they discovered that they had lost Fred. Until this day, George’s anguished screams echoed in her ear. 

Shaking these thoughts away, Hermione took a deep breath before finally pressing the doorbell. She waited exactly twenty-seven seconds before the door was opened. Arabella Figg’s kind face greeted her and Hermione prayed to Merlin the smile she showed wasn’t shaky and awkward. 

“Hermione, dear, I’ve been waiting for you,” the squib said, ushering her inside. 

“Hello, Mrs. Figg,” she weakly greeted as she closed the door behind her. “How are you?” 

She wasn’t planning on having small talks with the older woman, but her heart had been thudding loudly with nervousness ever since she apparated out from the humble flat she and Ron had purchased earlier that week. Ron was supposed to be with her today, but Molly had asked for Ron’s help for Fred’s memorial. Despite her anxiety, Hermione did not have the heart to deny Molly from her request. She wanted to ask Harry, too, but he was away in a holiday somewhere in an obscure country in Asia just to get away from the sudden spotlight he was thrust into. Defeating Voldemort had exhausted him so, and it was quite understandable that Harry wanted to have some rest before stepping back into the Wizarding World as the celebrated hero of all.

“I’m quite fine, Hermione,” the kind matron then said. She led Hermione in a quaint living room and gestured for her to sit on one of the plush couches. Her eyes lit up in amusement upon seeing at least half a dozen cats scattered about. Ron once joked to her that if they didn’t get together, he always envisioned Hermione as an old spinster with abundant Crookshanks keeping her company. Instead of getting offended, the brunette had actually concurred. 

Once settled, Hermione cleared her throat. “May I… may I see her?” 

Mrs. Figg smiled. “Of course, dear,” she said. “She’s your daughter after all.” 

Her stomach lurched at the mention of Rose and she waited in anticipation as Mrs. Figg disappeared to get her daughter. When she arrived back with a toddler in her arms, Hermione’s breath hitched and her vision blurred. 

It had exactly been twelve months, five weeks, and two days. Hermione had counted the days when she last saw her baby and had been desperately yearning for the War to finally end so that she could be with her daughter. The only memory she had of Rose was her birth. She was the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever seen and her heart was bursting with joy and promises of comfort. But the Order decided that a baby was not fit to be cared for in the Order, and Rose was immediately taken away from Hermione and was given to Mrs. Figg for protection. 

Hermione had begged for days to at least see a glimpse of their child, devastated that Rose was taken away from her before she could even memorize every lines and curves on her face. But then, they were at _War_ and Hermione had to accept that the safest place her baby could be was to be away from _her_. She was, after all, one of the most wanted witches in the Wizarding World during that time. Being Undesirable Number Two came with a price. She’d be damned if Rose was caught in the middle of everything. 

Mrs. Figg sent a few letters during the last twelve months, five weeks, and two days. She reported about a lot of Rose’s firsts and Hermione always had tears in her eyes every time the letter ended. Ron would find her curled into a ball on her bed, and would silently hold her all night until her tears had abated. 

And then finally, _finally_ the War had ended and Hermione could bring her daughter home. 

She watched as Mrs. Figg placed Rose onto her feet. The one-year-old wobbled precariously for a while, before happily taking a few steps forward. Hermione gasped, surprised that she was able to finally walk. The last letter she received from Mrs. Figg stated that Rose was only starting to crawl. 

“She started walking yesterday,” Mrs. Figg said, pride in her voice. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

Rose toddled closer, gurgling incoherent sounds that pulled Hermione’s heartstrings. As she took another step, she lost her balance and landed on her bum. Hermione was halfway out of her seat, but Rose merely giggled and hastily clambered back onto her feet. 

Hermione was laughing, too. And then she was crying. Her tears were loud and guttural, openly staring at the daughter she had missed so much. Rose was startled by the sounds she was making, curiously peering at her with her wide, blue eyes. 

“Oh, Hermione,” Mrs. Figg said, sauntering closer to envelope the brunette into her arms. “Hush, now, don’t cry. I’ll bring you some tea to calm you down.” 

Mrs. Figg disappeared in her kitchens, but her tears still wouldn’t stop. Rose was now sitting quietly on the carpeted floor, her blue eyes never leaving her mother. 

Rose had grown so much compared to the small babe in her arms. She was born prematurely due to the constant stress Hermione was in, but her beautiful daughter fought valiantly to live, and now she had just turned one last week. She was still so tiny, but her head was already full of red curls that ended up to her ears. She undoubtedly inherited her bushy mane, but her red hair and her blue eyes were definitely her father’s. 

Cautiously, Hermione approached the child. Rose grew shy and looked down onto her hands, and Hermione felt another lurch in her heart. She was a _stranger_ to her daughter, she realized. More tears tumbled down from her eyes as she shakily reached out to place a palm on the crown of her curly head. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured through thick tears. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

She gingerly pulled Rose into her arms, but the child grew anxious and burst into tears. Rose desperately squirmed in her arms, obviously wanting to get away. Hermione was filled with despair and guilt, swaying around and shushing her but Rose wouldn’t calm down. 

Closing her eyes, Hermione recalled the song her mother used to sing to her as a child. It always brought her comfort and she prayed to whomever that it would also do the trick to Rose. 

“ _Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high_ ,” she softly lulled, pressing wet kisses on her head. “ _And the dreams that you dream of, once in a lullaby_.” 

Rose had thankfully stopped squirming. _“Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly_.  _And the dreams that you dream of, dreams really do come true_.” 

Rose’s cries turned into soft whimpers, before they all together stopped. Her daughter looked at her with wide, wet eyes, wordlessly grasping some of Hermione’s curls into her hands. _“Someday I’ll wish upon a star. Wake up where the clouds are far behind me._ ” Rose then slowly leaned her cheek against Hermione’s shoulders and released a wide yawn. “ _Where trouble melts like lemon drops, high up above the chimney top, that’s where you’ll find me_.” 

Hermione peered down and saw that Rose had fallen asleep. The brunette clamped on her lips tightly to stop herself from bursting into messy sobs and allowed the tears to silently stroll down from her eyes and land gently onto Rose’s hair. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered as softly as she could, placing a gentle kiss on Rose’s forehead. “I love you. I’ve missed you so much.” 

Mrs. Figg finally arrived with her tea. Upon seeing her with Rose in her arms, tears sprung out from the squib’s eyes, too. 

“Welcome back, Hermione,” she said, smiling through her tears and placing the tea on her table. She then excused herself once more to bring down Rose’s things. 

As soon as they were alone again, Hermione gingerly tightened her arms around her sleeping daughter. “I will love with you with all of my heart,” she softly promised. “I will protect you from any harm. I promise, Rose. I promise you.”  


	28. The End: Five Years Later

The house-elves did a good job in maintaining the rose bushes in the East Wing Gardens of the Malfoy Manor. Spring was about to leave and in its wake was the blistering heat of summer, but the roses were still at full bloom. Drops of water from last night’s drizzle were like shiny diamonds adorning their petals. 

Smiling sadly, Draco knew his mother would have loved to see her beloved flowers at their prettiest. 

“Does Master Draco require Morty’s assistance today?” 

Glancing at the old house-elf, Draco politely shook his head no. Morty snapped his fingers and disappeared in an instant, leaving the silent blond alone to visit his mother’s grave. 

It had been three years now ever since Narcissa succumbed to her illness. The day of her death was actually a particularly hectic day for her son. Draco was away on a mission in France, aurors needing his assistance to break through an old manor of a Pureblood family notorious for practicing the Dark Arts. At the same time, he was frazzled with unimaginable nerves with the news that Hermione was ordered by Healer Matthews to be bedridden until she delivered their son. 

It was all too much for Draco when a letter had been sent to him, bearing the news of his mother’s passing. 

He had thought that after interacting daily with Lucius’ portrait, Narcissa would overcome her illness. She did become well, often being lucid every time he visited with his small family. Her mother adored his two daughters and spent most of her frail days with them in her beloved East Wing Gardens. But Narcissa was tired – she had told him often that Lucius needed her now and she must leave him be. 

And leave him she did, and Draco was distraught. The only thing that kept him from falling apart was his family, who supported him through the whole ordeal. 

Draco's mind came back to the present when he finally reached Narcissa’s grave. Silently, he conjured a rose and charmed it everlasting. One of his mother’s request before her death was to be buried here and not amongst the Malfoys in the family graveyard. He therefore chose a spot near the first bush his mother had ever taken care of. She was particularly fond of this rose bush, having survived the trying times of the Malfoy family and continued to bloom despite the adversity. He knew, even without Narcissa telling him, that she would be happy to be buried here. 

“Hello, Mother,” he whispered, placing a rose on her graveyard. He ran a finger across her epitaph that Rose had chosen - _A flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all_. She claimed it came from one of her favorite Disney movies; Draco thought it was undoubtedly fitting for his mother. 

Emotions cracked through his carefully crafted mask. The pain of losing Narcissa was still fresh in his heart, despite all these years, and there was never a day he stopped missing her. He just wished that she was here right now, to tell him she was proud of him for all the achievements he garnered along the way. 

He didn’t know for how long he stayed. He figured it was already hours since the sun was already setting. Draco couldn’t somehow bring himself to leave, however. 

“I knew you’d be here.” 

He heard her more than he saw her and Draco didn’t bother to turn around and face his wife. He heard Hermione’s soft footsteps pattering through the grass until she finally reached his side. Her hand easily wove through his fingers as if they had always belonged there, and then worriedly peered up at him. 

“How’d you know I will be here?” he asked, his voice cracking a little. 

“Instincts,” she said, a small smile on her face. “I heard couples developed that after being married for years.” 

Draco gave her a pointed look, prompting her to playfully roll her eyes. 

“Tippy told me,” she corrected. “I got worried when you haven’t arrived yet for dinner.” She shuffled a bit closer to him and gave his hand another squeeze. “You okay, love?” 

Sighing, he sadly shook his head. “I miss her.” 

Hermione sadly frowned and looked down at the grave. “I know you do,” she softly said. 

They stayed in front of the grave for a few more minutes before Hermione had to reluctantly drag him away back home. The sun had already completely made its descent and darkness already shrouded the gardens. 

Draco allowed Hermione to lead him away and didn’t even protest when she side-along apparated them back home. His wife before insisted that with Narcissa gone, it would be logical for their family to move in the Malfoy Manor. But Draco resolutely refused, reasoning out that he didn’t want his children to grow up in a house that still brought nightmares for both of their parents. Instead, they purchased a quaint house, large enough to scream Malfoy fortune but smaller than the manor, somewhere in Wiltshire. The Malfoy Manor was now merely tended to by the house-elves. 

They arrived back in a quiet home since the children were all sleeping over in the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow. Draco didn’t really mind the rare opportunity of having the house to themselves, but he was feeling particularly sad today and would have loved to cuddle his children for comfort. 

“I’m not hungry,” Draco said, realizing that Hermione was pulling him into their dining area. Hermione gave him a disapproving frown, but merely sighed and instead pulled him to the kitchens. Before he could question what they were doing there, she brandished out her wand and summoned a plateful of cookies and two glasses of milk. 

“Cassiopeia and Scorpius will have a fit,” he said with a small smile. 

Hermione waved her hand dismissively, already clutching a cookie. “The Malfoy vault is enough to buy them thousands of these blasted cookies,” she grumbled. 

Draco smiled, knowing that she was merely making him feel better, and helped himself with a cookie. 

“Anyway, I actually have news,” she said as soon as she finished her snack. After rummaging in her robe pocket, she pulled out an unmistakable Hogwarts acceptance letter. 

“No,” he gasped, eyes widening in surprise. 

Hermione sighed and nodded her head. “Yes,” she sadly corrected. “Rose got it this morning. She was beside herself with happiness.” 

“Of course she was,” Draco said, snatching the opened letter from her hand. His eyes perused the generic letter from Headmistress McGonagall and the lists of books Rose would need. 

“It’s really happening,” Hermione said in misery. “I can’t believe it.” 

Draco chuckled. “It’s only a matter of time, Hermione. You know that,” he said. 

Before she could reply, he heard the fireplace loudly roar, signaling an arrival. His eyebrows furrowed in question, but Hermione merely smiled. 

“We’re home!” Rose announced, entering the kitchen with Scorpius in her arms, Cassiopeia closely following behind. 

“Hey!” five-year-old Peia exclaimed, crossing an arm over her chest. “No fair! We want cookies too!” 

Three-year-old Scorpius comically copied his big sister. “Yeah!” he supplemented. 

“What are you all doing here?” Draco asked, bemused, as Hermione ushered their children closer and gave them a cookie each. 

Passing Scorpius to her mother, Rose immediately sidled beside Draco and gave him a hug. “Mama said you don’t feel well today so we told Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry we can’t sleepover tonight,” she explained. Peia pattered closer to him and lifted up her arms and wriggled her fingers. 

Draco smiled and lifted his daughter into his arms and pulled her closer. He already felt loads better now that his family was complete. 

“Anyone wants to watch _‘Toy Story 3’_?” Hermione suggested, a grin on her face. Three excited hands shot up in the air and Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes at their enthusiasm. “Okay, just make sure we have enough tissues for Daddy’s tears, too.” 

Cheeks lightly reddening, he glared at his wife. “I _didn’t_ cry!” he loudly protested. 

“Mmm-hmm, five years and the idiot still denies,” Hermione said, childishly patting him on his cheek before ushering her children to their living room. 

“I didn’t cry!” Draco insisted, trailing behind his family, but all Hermione did was laugh.

* * *

“I don’t think James can come with us,” thirty-year-old Harry Potter claimed, frowning at his wife. He gingerly placed his hand on the forehead of his five-year-old son, grimacing at the sweltering heat. 

“Nooo,” James softly whined. “I want to see Rosie board the train, Dad. I _can_ come.” His words were followed by a booming cough, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes from the strength of it. He stubbornly crossed his arms against his chest, cheeks inflamed and beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. 

Ginny Potter rolled her eyes and pushed Harry out of the way. She mimicked Harry’s actions and frowned, completely concurring with her husband. “I don’t think so, young man,” she tutted, securely tucking him under his thick comforter. Despite James’ protests, he unconsciously snuggled deeper into the covers, his eyes already fluttering close from his high fever. 

“I knew it,” Harry said with a sigh as soon as James’ eyes completely closed. “We shouldn’t have forced him to go to that daycare when the news of a fever outbreak reached us.” 

“Now, Harry dear,” Molly Weasley said, sauntering into James’ bedroom. “It is perfectly normal for children to catch a cold once or twice a year. He’ll get through it.” The older witch walked closer and fondly peered at her grandchild. 

Then, to the couple, she said, “It is best if you go now. The Hogwarts train will leave soon.” 

“You can still come with us, Mum,” Ginny said. “Your _other_ grandchild is about to leave for Hogwarts.” 

Molly stubbornly lifted her chin and resolutely looked away from her daughter. “I think James needs me here,” was all she replied. 

“I can get Mrs. Figg to take care of him while we’re away,” she pointed out. When Molly still resolutely stood her ground, Ginny sighed. “ _Mum_. It’s been years. Don’t you think you are being too stubborn now?” 

Molly’s cheeks reddened in anger, and Harry took that as a cue to leave the mother and daughter alone. 

“Rose would like it if her grandmother was there to send her off to Hogwarts,” Ginny continued in a whisper. 

Her mother pursed her lips, still not meeting Ginny’s eyes. “I’m sure there would be a handful of people sending her off right now,” she said. “I don’t need to be there.” 

Ginny’s heart panged in sorrow. Even though it’s been almost eight years since Ron Weasley’s death, Molly still had not fully accepted Hermione, and by extension Rose. She had tried desperately to reconcile her mother and her ex sister-in-law, but Molly always found a way to dodge away from such reunion. 

She could see that Hermione was still hurt from all the ignorance of her mother. It didn't help that Hermione married _Draco Malfoy_ \- simply put, Molly reckoned it was an insult to her late son's memory. 

Ginny tried to drill to Molly that Ron’s death wasn’t Hermione’s fault… that it was _Lestrange’s_ fault, and it was unfair for Molly to treat her as if she was the plague itself. But Molly steadfastly stood her ground and continued to refuse any forms of reconciliation with the brunette. 

She completely understood what Molly was feeling. Now that she had James, she could not fathom how life would be if she lost him, too. But she knew it was time for Molly to start moving on, to shove those ridiculous notions that Hermione was at fault, and finally accept her and Rose as family. 

Sadly, it still seemed too farfetched. 

“It wasn’t Hermione’s fault, Mum,” she mumbled, exhausted from her mother’s antics. Molly bristled and opened her mouth, about to most likely dispute her claim, but Ginny wasn’t finished. “I’m sure Ron wouldn’t like how you are treating her and his daughter.” 

This made Molly clam up and look away once more, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“Gin,” Harry quietly called, poking his head from the door. He worriedly looked between her and Molly, but Ginny merely shook her head. “We must go.” 

Sighing, Ginny nodded her head and wordlessly placed a kiss on James’ feverish forehead. She also placed a kiss on Molly’s cheek, her lips meeting wetness from Molly’s tears, and silently walked out of her son’s bedroom. 

“She still needs time,” Harry said, touching her elbow for comfort. 

Ginny hastily wiped some wayward tears of her own and sadly smiled. “I just wish it will be sooner,” she confessed. She released a watery chuckle and desperately tried to wipe her tears gone. “Oh no, I can’t afford to be sad today! Rose will finally start in Hogwarts.” 

Harry fondly smiled and opened his arms. “Come here,” he beckoned. “I think you still have a few minutes for some comfort from your husband.” 

Despite her tears, Ginny brilliantly smiled and launched into his arms.

* * *

“You’re still not dressed?” 

Luna Nott smiled serenely and looked up from the small sketch pad she was holding. “What time is it?” she asked as her husband sauntered closer and perched on the armrest of her chair. 

“It’s ten,” Theo pointed out with a frown. “Rose will not forgive us if we did not see her off to Hogwarts. You do know how Mini Granger throws monumental tantrums, yeah?” 

“Technically, she is a Mini Malfoy now,” Luna corrected, her smile widening when Theo rolled his eyes. 

“I honestly think she’s a bad combination of _everything_ ,” Theo tutted. “A Granger, a Weasley, and now a _bloody_ Malfoy! I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d be the culprit in case Hogwarts blows up this year.” 

Luna softly chuckled under her breath and held onto his hand. “I think Rose is a perfect combination of her parents.” When Theo made a move to disagree, she held onto his hand tighter. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, yes. Hogwarts must brace herself for her arrival.” 

She didn’t miss the small, fond smile that flittered on her husband’s face. The fondness Theo Nott had over Rose was undeniable; Luna couldn’t wait to pop out their daughter so that he could fuss over her too. 

Theo absentmindedly placed his palm on top of her bulging stomach and peered at the sketch pad now lying on her lap. “What were you drawing anyway?” he asked with a quizzical frown. 

Luna smiled and stared down at her drawing. It was of a young girl, with hair as dark as the night with stars weaving through her locks. She had Luna’s eyes, though, but the nose and mouth were undoubtedly Theo’s. Beside her, she heard her husband gasp. 

“Is that -” 

“Asteria,” Luna simply said as she turned to Theo with a smile. 

“Asteria?” Theo echoed. “Wait… you thought of a name for our child already?” 

Luna nonchalantly shrugged and lovingly gazed at her drawing once more. “Asteria Nott,” she continued. “She will be the brightest star in the night.” 

Theo chuckled and draped an arm over her shoulders. “You are awfully fond of names and their symbols,” he pointed out. “Sometimes, I still think that you just agreed to marry me because your ‘Luna’ matches perfectly with my ‘Nott’.” 

His wife merely blinked her blue eyes at him. 

“You’re not even denying it?” he asked, amusement laced with shock. Luna smiled, prompting him to laugh once more and shake his head. 

“It’s one of the main reasons,” she explained. 

Theo sighed and pulled her closer to his chest. “I am sincerely hoping one of the main reasons too was because you love me very, very much.” 

For her response, she placed a small kiss on his neck. Grinning, Theo gestured at the sketch pad on her lap once more. “You really think she’ll look like that?” he hopefully asked. 

“I just combined our best features and drew her,” Luna said. “I think… I think she will be beautiful.” The blonde witch sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I can’t wait for this… this pregnancy to end.” She made a sour face and patted her stomach. “I miss _painting_. The smell of paint still makes me nauseous and it’s bad for our baby.” 

“Soon, love,” Theo murmured, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Only a month more and we’ll be a family of three then.” 

Theo then jumped down from the armrest and gingerly pulled his wife onto her feet. “Now, get dressed,” he said. “We have to leave for King’s Cross soon.” 

* * *

“What did I tell you about barging in without knocking?” 

Thirty-one year old Hermione Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t know,” she said, perching on the couch in his study. “I don’t really listen to you.” 

Draco rolled his eyes and gestured down at the papers on his desk. “I told you I’ll be down in a minute,” he said, neatly stacking the papers and putting them aside. “I just needed to sign some last minute documents. Then we can all go.” 

It didn’t escape his notice how Hermione miserably slumped on her seat. Sadly smiling, Draco knew that this day was particularly hard for her. It was, after all, Rose’s first day in Hogwarts. Hermione couldn’t accept that her little girl was growing up too fast and she had no means of stopping it. 

“She’ll be all right,” Draco reassured, reaching out for her hand. “Rose will be a force to be reckoned with. Hogwarts must be prepared.” 

Hermione lightly laughed and grasped his hand. Draco then proceeded to pull her closer, and didn’t stop until she was perched comfortably on his lap. Hermione weakly protested, but thankfully settled down. Sighing, she leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered, “I don’t know why I even feel like this. Rose is _beside_ herself with happiness. I don’t want to be a wet blanket.” 

“She’s growing up too fast,” Draco sighed, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Next thing you know, she’ll be bringing a boy over for dinner.” 

“Nooo,” Hermione whined, burying her head against his neck. Draco chuckled and tightened his hold on her. 

“You still have two children to look after,” he reminded her. “One still thinks she’s the princess of the whole world. The other thinks a bumblebee is _edible_. I don’t think they’ll be growing up soon.” 

“I don’t want them to grow up. _At all_.” 

“Mama! Dad! Are you two making babies again?” Rose Weasley-Malfoy’s unmistakable voice hollered from the other side of the door. 

Hermione’s eyes widened in horror whilst Draco burst into loud laughter. 

“Of course not, sweetheart,” he replied, a wicked grin on his face. 

“That’s what you told me last time,” Rose replied petulantly. “Then two weeks after, you told me you’re carrying Scorpius!” 

They both exchanged amused glances, knowing perfectly well that she was speaking the truth. “Is something the matter, Rosie?” her mother replied instead. “We still have an hour left before we go to King’s Cross.” 

The door opened and a frowning eleven-year-old Rose entered the room. “I can’t find Sir Ginger,” she murmured under her breath, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment. Draco tried his very best to hold on his sniggering, but Rose had caught on and glared at him. “What? He’s… he’s _cuddly_.” 

“Well, if I recall correctly,” Draco said, eyes alit with amusement, “you told me last night that you’re _too old_ for bedtime stories. I didn’t know you’re still attached to your furry, little toy.” 

“He’s not a toy,” Rose protested, stomping closer. Much to Hermione’s amusement (and Draco’s disgruntlement), Rose clambered up onto her mother’s lap, who was still sitting quite comfortably on Draco’s. “He’s my first friend. Of course, I should bring him to Hogwarts with me.” 

“I placed him in your trunk,” Hermione finally said. “I figured you’d want to bring him.” 

The redhead smiled brilliantly and gave her a kiss. “Thanks, Mama,” Rose replied. “You’re the best.” 

“Ugh, can you both get off my lap now?” Draco protested. “I can’t feel my legs anymore.” 

Rose giggled and jumped down. Hermione slipped off more gracefully and smiled at her husband. 

Suddenly, a loud wailing resounded in the whole house. Loud footsteps pattered into Draco’s study to reveal a distressed Cassiopeia Malfoy, followed by a sheepish Scorpius Malfoy. 

Tutting, Hermione bent down and carried her crying daughter into her arms. “What did Scorpius do this time?” she said, shooting a stern look at her youngest child. Scorpius, terrified, ran quickly to his father to save him from his mother’s wrath. 

“Scorpius broke my crown, Mama,” Peia wailed as Hermione wiped her tears away. “It’s my bestest crown!” 

"Best, Peia," Rose absentmindedly corrected.

“Is that true, Scorpius?” Draco asked with a frown, sternly looking down at his son on his lap. 

The toddler, who looked exactly like him, stared down at his hands. “Sorry Daddy,” he murmured, as tears welled up in his eyes and he started to sniff. 

“Mmhmm, and what you should tell Peia?” he urged. 

Scorpius petulantly looked at his big sister and said, “Sorry Peia.” 

Peia stuck out her tongue and looked away, prompting Hermione to sigh and Scorpius to start crying. 

“All right, all right, children,” Draco declared, scowling when he could feel a headache already forming. “Peia, I can fix your crown after we send Rosie to Hogwarts. Scorpius, quit crying – it was your fault after all and you should own it up.” His son vigorously nodded and wiped his face, his eyes hardening in childish conviction. 

“I’ll miss this family,” Rose announced with a grin, looking at each and everybody in the room. 

“Is Rosie really going away?” Peia asked, already appeased by her father’s promise. 

“Yes, love,” Hermione answered, placing her back on the ground. “Speaking of which, I think everybody should start preparing now. We will soon leave.” Directing her eyes at Rose, she said, “Will you help them get ready, Rose? Your dad and I will be with you in a moment.” 

Rose nodded her head and both grabbed her siblings’ hands. Draco couldn’t help but smile at the picture they made, his heart warming at the sight of all his children. Darting a look at Hermione, he could see that she sported the same look as he did. Draco sighed, wondering what he had really done in his life to deserve her and the beautiful family she had given him. 

Once their children were out of earshot, Hermione’s face morphed into exasperation. “I changed my mind,” she declared. “They should grow up _soon_ , all go to Hogwarts, so that we can finally have some peace and quiet in this house.” 

Draco chuckled, noting how her eyes were twinkling, and pulled her back on his lap once more. “You don’t mean that,” he stated matter-of-factly. Glancing quickly at his wall clock, he noted that they still had thirty minutes to go before they leave their house. 

“So…” he said, a suggestive smirk growing on his face. “Since we still have time, why don’t we -” 

“Don’t even think about it, Malfoy.” 

“Even for only ten minutes?” 

“No.” 

“Five?” 

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “Merlin, aren’t you tired of taking care of three boisterous and energetic children?” she inquired, amusement in her eyes. 

“Well…” he said, sheepishly smiling. “I actually want _six_.” 

“SIX?!” 

“I’m just kidding, Hermione,” Draco said in reply, grinning at the horror on her face. “Three is a  _bloody_ handful.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “But you know, maybe…” 

“Absolutely not!” 

Draco merely grinned.

* * *

A wave of nostalgia hit him as soon as he went through the barrier. Old students returning for another year in Hogwarts were clustered together, excitedly yammering about their summer vacation. The younger, newer students had tears in their eyes, clinging to their parents as they said their last goodbyes. 

Draco grinned, remembering his first day in Hogwarts too, and how he was trying his best to hold himself together under his father’s scrutinizing gaze. But he had really been nervous that day, and distressed that he would not be able to see his mother anymore. Narcissa had shed a tear, despite Lucius’ strict disapproval of showing emotions in public, but hadn’t spoken a word about it. 

“Dad,” Rose whined from behind. “You’re in the way.” 

Chuckling, he stepped aside and let his family come through. Rose gave him a weird look and instead looked around, in search for a familiar face. 

Draco watched in amusement as Peia twirled out of the barrier, her tutu bright and shimmery. A tiara sat atop her curly, blonde hair while clutching a toy wand that was too sparkly than the normal one. She announced that she was a ‘Fairy Princess’ for the day and proceeded to say made-up spells to make everything ‘bright and shiny’. She looked every bit like Narcissa, except for her curly hair that she undoubtedly got from her mother. 

“Mama! Train!” Scorpius blubbered in excitement as he and Hermione emerged out last. He started to make train sounds and Hermione, obvious delight in her eyes, joined in with her son. 

Draco sighed and smiled. He really loved his family very much. 

“Uncle Harry!” Rose suddenly exclaimed as she barreled towards the bespectacled auror. Harry effortlessly lifted her in his arms, even twirled her a bit, before placing her down on the ground. 

“Do you like my wand, Uncle Harry?” Peia then asked, smiling prettily up at him. 

“Aww, aren’t you a delight?” Ginny cooed, crouching down to pinch the giggling blonde on her cheek. 

“Potter,” Draco greeted, catching up to his daughters. “Weasley.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Really, _Draco_ ,” she said, putting enough emphasis on his given name, “would it hurt you to start calling us by our given names.” 

“Never, Weasley,” Draco said with a smirk. Then, to Harry he asked, “you didn’t bring James with you?” 

Harry made a face. “He contracted flu from some of his playmates in the ministry daycare,” he explained. “We had to leave him at home to spare the other children here.” A chuckle escaped from his lips. “He made a fit that he wouldn’t be able to see his favorite cousin board the Hogwarts train, though.” 

"Hmm, pity," Draco said with a frown. He know how the Potter heir desperately loved his cousin. He could already imagine a monumental tantrum brewing once James Potter realized he wasn't able to send off Rose. 

He then looked back at Ginny and smirked. “Nervous about the match this weekend, Weasley?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow when Ginny lifted her chin in confidence. “I still believe the Tornadoes will win against the Harpies.” 

Ginny, after James’ birth, chose to retire from Professional Quidditch and instead applied in the Department of Magical Games and Sports in the Ministry of Magic. She was still a firm supporter of the Holyhead Harpies through and through, though. 

“You wish, Malfoy,” she spat, playfully throwing a glare along his way. “After Birch’s retirement, the Tornadoes are losing every match they played.” 

“Hey!” Rose butted in, pouting in return. “They may have lost Captain Birch, but the Tutshill Tornadoes are still the best! You just wait this weekend, Aunt Ginny. The Harpies are going _down_.” 

Harry laughed boisterously beside his wife while Draco smirked and slung an arm across Rose's shoulders. “I’ve never been prouder of you, Rosie,” he said, placing a kiss on top of her head. 

“All right, all right, enough Quidditch talk,” Hermione tutted as she finally caught up with them, a widely smiling Scorpius perched against her hip. “Rose needs to board the train soon.” She passed her son over to her husband, and gave both Harry and Ginny hugs for greeting. 

“Are you excited, Rosie?” Ginny then asked, reaching out for her niece. She ran a hand through her curly hair and smiled. “Your cousins are already waiting for you to be sorted to Gryffindor.” 

Draco snorted. “As if,” he said. “She’s definitely a _Slytherin_.” 

“Gryffindor!” they all exclaimed in unison, even Peia and Scorpius joined. Draco scowled and frowned petulantly at the eleven-year-old, waiting for her to back him up. 

But Rose, with a sweet smile on her face, reached forward and held her father’s hand. “Sorry, Dad, but I’m with them,” she replied, her smile turning apologetic. 

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Theo Nott suddenly exclaimed, jogging towards them, almost out-of-breath. “I thought we missed the train!” 

“Hello, Uncle Theo,” Rose greeted, giving him a hug. “Where’s Aunt Luna?” 

“Here, darling,” a heavily pregnant Luna announced, appearing beside her husband. “Good luck on your first day in Hogwarts! I still think you’ll be great in Ravenclaw.” 

“Gryffindor!” everybody announced once more, except Draco and Theo, who both made faces. 

“Oh, Luna, you look radiant!” Hermione gushed, placing a hand against her bulging tummy. “How are you?” 

The blonde prettily blushed and fondly stroked her belly. “Pregnancy is hard,” she said with a sigh. “But I’ve felt worse. I miss painting, though. I still can’t tolerate the smell.” 

Theo snaked a hand around her waist and gently pulled her closer. “You’ll be back soon, my moon,” he murmured, kissing her on the cheek. He also placed a hand on her stomach and grinned. “I can’t wait for you to pop out my heiress! I’ll be able to finally pass the throne and forever live in the Muggle world.” 

“I think retirement is still too farfetched when we have a daughter to raise,” Luna sweetly said, turning her head to place a kiss on his chin.  

“Anyway,” Hermione said, catching everybody’s attention. Then, to Rose, she added, “I think you should best get going, Rose.” Hermione proceeded to usher her daughter towards the train. “You don’t want to be late! I think I already saw Frank inside.” 

“Wait!” Rose said, glancing towards Draco. “Can I talk to you for a sec, Dad?” 

Draco frowned and exchanged glances with Hermione. His wife merely shrugged her shoulders in return. “All right, Rosie,” he said, allowing the curly, redhead to pull him away from their small family. “What seems to be the matter?” He peered at her closely, worried that something might have been bothering her, but she only shook her head. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she murmured, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just…” She darted a quick glance at her mother and sadly smiled. “Take care of Mama.” 

He looked at her in surprise. “You don’t have to tell me that because you know I will,” he replied, frowning at her words. 

Rose released a watery chuckle and brushed a few tears away. His eyes widened, realizing that his energetic daughter was starting to cry. “Oh no, this is so stupid,” Rose said, sniffing daintily and releasing a sigh. “It’s just… this is the first time I’ll be away from Mama for a very long time and…” Her breath hitched as she looked back at Draco. “Mama has been through a lot and I know that she’s happy for me today. But… I can see her eyes, Dad. She’s _sad_.” 

Sighing, Draco pulled her into his arms. “Of course your mother is sad,” he said. “Her baby’s all grown up and is finally going to Hogwarts. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t happy for you, too. _Gods_ , I can already foresee her sending you her color-coded notes back in Hogwarts and lecturing you all about time management. She was a _bloody_ swot.” 

“Shh, no bad words,” Rose joked, giggling when Draco poked her on the side. “I told you this was stupid. I don’t even know why I’m worrying about her on my first day!” 

Draco grinned and pulled her away. “She’s in good hands,” he promised. “Your Dad’s a wonderful babysitter, remember?” 

Rose snorted and shook her head. “With me gone, I’m sure you’ll still have a handful,” she said, pointing to her younger siblings. Sighing, she launched into his arms again and murmured, “I promise to write letters to you. I think I’ll try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year, since they already allowed first years to try-out after Uncle Harry.” 

“You’ll be wonderful in the _Slytherin_ Quidditch team,” Draco corrected. 

“Oh, Dad,” Rosie sighed, smiling apologetically at him. “You do know there’s too much of a Gryffindor in me, right? I’m the daughter of two-thirds of the Golden Trio. The whole Wizarding World will have a heart attack if I’m Sorted in otherwise.” When Draco made a face, she chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about Peia, though. I think she will be your perfect _Slytherin princess_.” 

He shot a glance at his five-year-old, happily waving her wand around and capturing the attention of the adults around her. “Ugh, if boys start to swarm around her, I _swear_ -” 

“All she can think about are tutus and tiaras,” Rose said with a laugh. “I don’t think you need to worry about that yet.” 

Draco glared at her warningly. “If boys start to swarm around _you_ , I _swear_ -” 

“Dad!” she whined, her cheeks flaming into a lovely shade of red. Draco frowned, knowing she was mostly likely thinking about Frank Longbottom. His heart gave a painful lurch, dreading the day when she would really finally bring a boy over for dinner. 

“Scorpius, though,” Rose then said, a strange glint in her eyes. “Definitely a Hufflepuff.” 

“ _What_?!” he exclaimed in protest. “No!” 

“Yes,” Rose giggled, pointing at his bubbling brother. “He’s a _dear_ , Dad. Everybody loves him instantly. He’s friendly, and nice, and smiles _all_ the time. Definitely a Hufflepuff.” 

Draco glowered. “He still has plenty of time to become the epitome of Slytherin,” he snarled. “You just wait.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Rose grinned, yelping when he poked her on her side again. 

The Hogwarts train then whistled, signaling its impending departure. A pang of sadness washed over his form as he looked down at Rosie, his _daughter_ , and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see her being a bloody menace at home finally sank in. 

“I promise to write always,” Rose promised once more, sadly smiling up at him. “I know you’ll be the one to miss me the most.” 

He playfully rolled his eyes but still gathered her into his arms. “Rose,” he started, emotions clogging his throat, “I know that you’re not mine, but I’ll always be proud of you. Remember that.” 

Rose sniffled and nodded her head. When she pulled away for him, her eyes were still shining with tears, but there was mischief in her eyes, too. “Up, up?” she asked. “For old time’s sake?” 

Draco snorted. “Rose, you know you’re too old for those, right?” he said. 

“Aww, too late, Dad!” She then launched into his arms and Draco had no choice but to carry her in his arms. 

“Blimey, you menace,” he protested. “You’re heavy!” 

Rose laughed boisterously and effortlessly jumped off from his arms. 

“Bloody menace,” he muttered, almost too fondly. “You should get onto the train now. I feel your mother worrying from here that you won’t get there on time.” 

True to his words, Hermione was already looking at them anxiously. Rose giggled, pulled her father back with the adults, and beamed. 

“Goodbye, family!” she said, opening her arms as Scorpius toddled and Peia launched towards her. Both children were in tears, crying that they would miss their big sister. 

Rose each gave goodbye hugs to the others until she reached her mother. Draco sadly smiled, seeing how Hermione was trying her best to hold in her tears. But when Rose enveloped her into a hug, whispered words against her ear, the brunette wasn’t able to hold them in anymore. 

The redhead hugged him again and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Dad. You know that, right?” she said, giving him a watery grin. “Take care of the family.” 

They all watched as Rose finally climbed onto the train. Draco could feel his heart wrenching and soaring at the same time, waving back his hand at Rose when the train started to move. 

“I love you, family!” she hollered, enthusiastically waving her wand. “See you in Christmas.” 

They stayed until they could not see the Hogwarts train anymore. Harry, Ginny, Theo, and Luna all bid them goodbye and left. 

“Anyone want Florean’s?” Draco whispered, smiling forlornly at his devastated family. Both Peia and Scorpius’ eyes lit up in excitement, jumping up and down and chanting their favorite flavors. Thankfully, their tears had abated. 

He lifted Scorpius in his arms and held Peia’s hand. Hermione was still gazing at the small, moving dot of the Hogwarts Express, tears in her eyes. 

“Love,” he called, touching her elbow to get her attention. “She will be all right, you know. No… scratch that. She will be _magnificent_. You don’t need to worry about her.” 

Hermione sniffed and chuckled, brushing her tears away. “I just feel so emotional today, I’m sorry,” she said, sidling up beside him. “But you’re right. She’ll be magnificent.” 

“Of course,” he said, reverently nodding his head. “She’s yours, after all.” 

Eyes shining with tears, Hermione gave him a smile that still managed to take his breath away. “And yours,” she added. Draco made a move to correct, but she held onto his hand and smiled. “You might have not participated in her conception” – Draco made a face, undoubtedly thinking about Ron – “but she’s your daughter now.” 

Draco mirrored her smile and squeezed her hand in reply.   

As he ushered his family towards the barrier, Draco gave the disappearing dot of the Hogwarts train once last glance before finally going through the barrier.

* * *

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, Asteria is the Titan goddess of nocturnal oracles and shooting stars. So yes, pair it with 'Nott' and Luna is happy. Also, Narcissa's epitaph obviously came from 'Mulan' 
> 
> Anyway, I would just like to say thank you to all those who pressed that kudos button and dropped comments! I would have loved to reply to all of you but I'm swamped with school. I'm glad you all enjoyed this story! I'm a little sad I wouldn't be able to post everyday anymore but oh well. Thank you for loving this story as much as I loved it. 
> 
> I really loved Daddy!Draco with cute Rose or even a cute Scorpius. So maybe you can recommend some wonderful fanfics that is similar with this story? Thank you!


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